Scions of Magic - Getting even
by chbedok1
Summary: My name is Wilson Pink; I have dueled monsters, I have fought for causes I cared nothing about, and I have killed people for whom I cared too much. I have learned that good and evil do not exist; only truth, and everything else. From one fact, many forms. Such as; Grimm eats people, Faunus need to chill, and justice is nothing if you can't get even.
1. Chapter 1

There are times when I'm known as Wilson Pink. A soldier during the summer time, a student every other time, and slaying monsters across the length and breadth of the world of Remnant, just to keep my bank account a little higher above the black.

Other times, I'm evidently out of my goddamn mind, charging honest folk for something they could do themselves, with a stick. And what I should be doing out of the goodness of my own heart, in any case.

And then, there are times when I am a woman's only hope.

"Lady," I replied to her assertion, "That's because you haven't gotten my bill yet."

"I will give you carte blanche. Help me. Please!"

"You're on. Lead the way."

She moved fast, and that should have been a giveaway. But the pace she set was blistering, even for me, not to mention the scent of piss dancing with twisting brick corners and the rubbish-strewn ground was, at the very least, nauseatingly disorienting. The feeling didn't have the time to make itself comfortable, considering how brief the run was, and the lady and I exited the alley maze soon enough.

We stepped into a bright street, lined on both sides with the kind of shops people paste on postcards. Personal affairs, selling personal goods; flowers, curious, and the like. The paving of the road and the stalls that occupied the road instead of other vehicles served together to create an atmosphere of adventure waiting behind each door or counter. However, like any place promising adventure, there was one shop that was on fucking fire.

"Holy shit! That shop is on fucking fire!"

"Great observational skills! It seems like I've made a great investment!"

"That … was sarcasm. Right?"

"No," the lady said, "Cynicism, I think?"

We jogged closer to the flames, she in a long skirt with a long slit which twirled around her legs. While my padded jacket scrubbed clean the leather strips, and plates, stitched on my back, shoulders, and chest. A broad, empty bandolier held the coat closed around the iron dome that was my torso, a job which the jacket's buckles accomplish uncomfortably. Thus, the bandolier.

"Over there!" She finally said, pointing towards the burning shop front, "Stop them, please!"

That was when I heard the massive fist, playing the cult classic; 'please don't hurt me' on some hapless person's face. It was a band performance, backlit by a stage display of a burning convenience store called 'straightforward arson.' The arsonists milled about the storefront, brandishing sticks at the bystanders, while their leader exercised his musical skills on who I assumed to be the store's owner.

"Ok. Stop the arsonists how?" I asked.

"By any means possible." The lady replied.

Don't have to tell me twice.

I kept my stride even, but brisk, as I approached the arsonist's perimeter. My left hand high and rubbing my bald crown, while the closest of the gang saw me and moved in to intercept. After sharing an elbow nudge, and a quick chuckle with his buddy standing next to him.

"Hey there kid, I recommend you mind your own - !"

I slapped the man. Right-handed over his left ear. The weight of the blow pulled me forward and around the gangster's flank. Lining the back of his head with a right cross that dropped him to his knees.

The rest of the group flinched back, then began inching warily to take my flanks. I stepped closer to the leader and said.

"Bless this, thy reach Lord, that your righteous anger may show the unknowing the light. In thy mercy."

Before shooting the leader in the leg.

Sticks clattered to the pavement, and the smattering of feet in flight receded with the shot's ringing echo. Cradling my weapon close, with the muzzle pointed at the ground. I scanned the street and the shop front for threats while I advanced on my crippled target, who was attempting to crawl away with his injured leg dragging behind him.

I sidled up to the ex- gang's leader and rolled my combat boot over the ankle of his busted leg. Screaming ensued.

"You set a man's shop on fire and were in the process of beating him through the street. Why?"

Through his pain, the gang's leader gasped in reply.

"That animal … and his friends … Raped my sister! Wrecked my home! I - !"

His head exploded across my trousers. The direction is directing my target acquisition before I had to abandon my weapon when the gun exploded in mid-air.

Screams and heads started to blow up, and out of control. Driving the crowd into frenzied confusion as the arsonists' heads popped, twice and thrice at a time. I jerked right and dove for cover, which was when a shot caught me in the side, flung me over my feet, and nailed me into the concrete.

My vision flickered in time with the heartbeat of the pain spreading across the left side of my chest. Rolling onto my back eased nausea that boiled through my gut, and carried the lady's mocking laugh as her feet slapped lightly across the ground.

"If only you had shot the man, all this unpleasantness would have been unnecessary."

I coughed, clenching my right fist as the voice, and my vision, cleared.

"Pity," the woman continued. Cooing in my ear, as if to a particularly troublesome child, and stroking my left cheek. "Killing you would be a waste of a body, even if it is a filthy human's ..."

I snapped my hand around the lady's wrist, and for a brief moment the woman's face was bright before my eyes; too long to be wholly human, yet beautiful in its bestial way. Confusion marred the emerald of her eyes and horrified comprehension blunted the cut of her jaw. Before all the beauty melted into a flash of searing pink.

I sat up and looked around. The discharge from the blast clearing from my eyes in a variegation of colored spots. The agonized sobbing, however, was a more reliable point on which to regain my surroundings.

"What God hath cleansed, call not thou common." I intoned as my sight finally returned.

An anguished wail replied as I slid closer to the feminine form prostrated on the street.

"My face … My face …!"

"You're alive," I said while keeping my distance. "As expected of White Fang's third best assassin."

Despite the smoke, and the scent of burned face. The hatred in the woman's glare was palpable from where I faced her.

"Their third best assassin and authority on kicking techniques; Kiri Tuckson. Your 'Snipe foot' is the stuff of legends."

I glanced at the corpse of an arsonist, pulped from the neck up into a fine red mist. As if by a bullet from a high-powered rifle.

"It was an experience to witness your technique. My compliments."

"I know you too," Kiri rasped, "Radical. Where is your ring? How many innocent lives have you visited your atrocities, in the name of your false God? In pursuit of your twisted justice?"

"Justice is for men. I deal in vengeance, debts of fetid blood and pounds of festering flesh. Coincidentally there are seven headless bodies here with your name on the bill."

I settled my weight and flexed my fingers.

"I'll collect in cash. Cheques tend to bounce, and your credit standing is woefully inexistent."

Kiri giggled, then chuckled. And when what's left of her calm snapped, even I couldn't help but step back.

With a shriek, Kiri leaped, and I shifted to engage; Blading my body so that my center line was out of reach of a kick, the edge of my left hand extended to receive any strike, and my right fist close in support.

From a prostrate position, Kiri leaped up and backward, landing in a feral crouch before scampering into a nearby alleyway. I was of a mind to pursue. But I saw the holes dug into the stone by Kiri's bare toes, and I decided that the night had gone on long enough. Besides, I wasn't on the job; this bill isn't officially my concern.

I was about to leave, but I caught sight of the shopkeeper who had been the cause of this mess, and something began nagging to be cleared up. Reaching down and picking up a dropped stick, I walked over to where the bloodied man was leaning against a dented lamppost. Beneath the artificial light, I noticed a pair of dog's ears poking through tousled black hair, and noted that he was a Faunus. Part man, part animal, and no different from the latter at times, which explained Kiri's and White Fang's involvement in the matter.

Thus it was with a clear conscience, that I rolled my boot over the shopkeeper's ankle. Crushing his Achilles tendon and asking.

"The man who had been beating on you, he told me you raped his sister. Is that right?"

The beast replied, between pained bursts of air escaping from thin, handsome lips.

"That human bitch asked for it."

Well.

"Lord," I began. "Forgive me, for I knew not what I do now."

I really should just walk away, I thought. This mess is none of my business, and I am not on the job.

"And it is what I know not, that brings suffering to your children. What I have overlooked, that is the cause of pain in this world."

A brother dead, a sister raped. This mess isn't simply business any longer; it is a catharsis.

"But Lord you have given me the power to act, and placed me here that I may act in your name."

The shopkeeper growled in pain and struggled to crawl away, eyes widening as I tested the stick's weight in my hands.

"Justice is for the dead, and for the two souls in your peace, I cannot give them justice. Justice is a cold pity. For the living, all they have is cold vengeance."

"Fuck!" the animal barked as I raised the stick. "No!"

"In thy mercy."

And thus, I brought the stick down. Hard.


	2. Chapter 2

My name is Wilson Pink, and I was about to miss my flight.

"Dear customers; please be informed that the next lake crossing to Beacon Academy will be boarding shortly …"

Well, as the intercom said, it's more air-borne ferry than an inter-continental flight. I still do not wish to miss it though; my luggage has been checked in with most of my gear, and I do not want a baggage handler messing with my things at the other end of the ride. Which wouldn't be a problem, if my ten o'clock appointment had been punctual.

I scowled at a girl sporting two-toned hair, who pushed past me as she skipped towards the door of the waiting lounge, and turned back to the viewing window as the automatic door hissed shut.

"Dear customers; the next lake flight to Beacon Academy is now boarding …"

This is why one should never owe favours if one could help it. One would be less likely to inconvenience oneself for an appointment's sake.

I swore I'd wait another five minutes until a familiar disturbance in the air threw my resolutions out of my mind. Stepping away from the viewing gallery, I ducked back into the shadows and started tracking that ominous feeling crawling along my spine.

Nowadays, it's called Aura. The threads of ancient power that binds all things in a great web of life. I, and those with my background address it with a deific nomenclature; the web is more than just power, energy binding men, and beings to a single whole. It is a Covenant, the seal on a long forgotten promise between men and something too old, too intelligent, to be referred to without proper respect.

The Covenant is a flow of power that touches everyone, but only a few can use. Those who could be identified by each other, and I, unfortunately, recognized the one who was in the same building as I was. Shit goes down when that one is in the same building I am.

"Dear customers, due to unforeseen circumstances, all flights are now grounded, and we are the closing the flight terminal. All passengers, please make their way to the emergency exits in a calm and orderly fashion."

Vindication.

As the PA system repeated the message, I dropped to a knee and took stock of what I had. My primary and side-arms had all been checked on board because of safety regulations, which left me with what I could conceal in the long coat I had traded my jacket in for; a collapsible baton, a flashbang, an old ring, and a chocolate bar.

Well, I decided. I unwrapped the bar, and headed off to find a familiar face.

* * *

"I expected you to be harder to find."

The voice drifted out from the room to my left, with the door half a jar, and I annoyed. All these years, and still no tactical awareness.

Placing my back against the wall and sinking my butt onto my heels, I inched forward and tuned out the voice coming through the open door. I then hurled the flashbang into the room.

I waited for the shouting to begin before charging into the room, snapping out my baton as I ploughed into the door with all my strength. There were nothing and no one behind it. The room itself was luxurious, a higher class of waiting lounge, and occupied by four bodies and two men in the middle of the chamber; one standing, over the other sitting in a chair.

There was a flash of bright pink, and now there were four bodies and one man lying propped against the wall opposite me. A broad shouldered man, chiseled square from a cinder block and topped with short, graying hair and a white suit.

"I was wondering why you were late General," I said as I walked over.

General James Ironwood coughed and pushed himself to his feet.

"Glad to see you come through that door, Corporal Pink."

I snapped off a salute and rushed forward to guide the General to safety. We were just about to step out of the room and instead found ourselves on an open rooftop overlooking a magnificent skyline of steel and glass, bathed in the palette of a warm afternoon.

"Fucking Argyle." I spat beneath my breath.

I stepped forward to place myself before the General, tensing as the voice I heard outside the lounge call out from behind us.

"I always thought you hated that 'eye-blast' move, Wilson?"

The General and I turned towards the man on the roof, every inch the gentleman wizard out of a story book, cosplayed by a bodybuilder with an accent and an exceptionally well-built beard; the suit was cut by a master and accentuated the muscle straining against the fabric. The suit's jacket reached down the giant's thighs, and instead of a staff, the man carried a Dane Axe in his hands.

"Fucking Argyle."

"Where is your ring though?" Arnold Argyle asked while he strolled closer, his hands twisting the shaft of his axe. "Did you break it? I hope you didn't break it, I must kill you while you're wearing it. It won't be right otherwise."

"Argyle," I replied. "Leave now. Before I break you."

Argyle threw back his head, laughing. Bursts of belly shaking laughter were carrying between us. Laughter which abruptly cut off when he disappeared.

I was waiting for Argyle to do that and released the charge I had been building in my left hand into the ground. The pink blaze coalesced into a translucent half-dome and exploded when Argyle reappeared and slammed his Dane-Axe down on the dome.

I was closing the distance while Argyle staggered back, my baton knocking the axe shaft he had raised in a vertical guard aside before cutting down on his left arm. The stroke's momentum carried me forward, lining me up in one swift step with the unprotected left side of Argyle's face.

Checking Argyle's mass with my left jab I cracked the baton down across his thigh, buckling his knee and dropping his face level with mine. Before grabbing Argyle's suit jacket, jamming my hip against his, and reaping my right leg up between his legs. Argyle reacted just as quickly, stepping forward and bracing his right leg against the throw, followed by him reaching out for my coat and hauling me off the floor.

Feet swinging in mid-air, I wrapped both hands around the baton's handle and whipped it down, the same way one would swing a sword. Putting everything I had into the butt of the rod instead of the tip, and planting it firmly into Argyle's forearm. It was a move that should have broken bones. Argyle merely growled in response and body-slammed me onto the roof.

My boot soles hit the concrete first, followed by the meat of my right arm breaking the force of the fall. Instead of the fall breaking my back. Breathing in quick bursts through the pain, I rolled back onto my knees and discovered first that I had lost my baton in the fall, and second, Argyle had knocked General Ironwood back onto the ground and was reaching for him.

As I sprinted towards Argyle I felt my old ring dig into my ribs and reached into the pocket, and as I closed in on the two I flicked the balled-up chocolate wrapper at Argyle. The plastic ball bounced off Argyle's bicep, and while the ball fell away into the wind Argyle turned towards me and disappeared in a sweep of blue light.

Both the General and I held a collective breath, waiting for the brute to reappear.

"What?" The General finally asked, "What was that? And what the hell happened?"

"Magic, General," I replied, before walking over and offering a hand. "Specifically, teleportation magic; navigating the power flow of the Covenant to move from point A, to point B."

"And what is this 'Covenant'? Wilson Pink?" The General asked as he grasped my hand and pulled himself up.

"The answer depends on whether you're a praying man, General."

General Ironwood nodded once and changed the subject.

"In any case, what's stopping that madman from popping back here and killing the both of us?"

"Firstly; while teleporting alone is a matter of training, teleporting with company requires mental calculations of the utmost precision, combined with a considerable commitment in focus and power. A distraction, such as a balled up wrapper, would have thrown off the teleport to such an extent that it would be a surprise if someone like Argyle could find his way back here. Although Argyle always has been a surprising fellow. Secondly …"

The maintenance door, which admitted access to the roof of the sky-ferry terminal, crashed open. Through which half a dozen men and women in suits rushed onto and secured the space around the General and me.

"Huh. It seems thanks are in order, Wilson Pink. You pulled me out of a tight spot."

"It's what I do, Sir. Besides, I owe you, and I have the feeling that I still do."

General Ironwood whispered a quick order to one of the men before saying.

"You're right. I'm reinstating your rank, Corporal Pink, and we need to talk."


	3. Chapter 3

My name is Wilson Pink, and I have fought for all the right causes; glory, honor, tradition. Now, I am fighting once again for a cause for which I only felt indifference.

"Ozpin, please! You must see reason!"

I looked up from the large plain, silver ring dancing between my fingers and glanced over at the man General Ironwood called Ozpin. Where the General had himself chipped from a block of granite, the eccentricity that was Ozpin looked like a clockwork figurine; slender, delicate, and with more layers, than was evident in the green suit and crooked shades perched across the narrow bridge of his nose.

I turned my attention back to my ring as the General's tirade continued. I had my part to play in this drama.

"My agents and intelligence reports from the past month have said increased violence, and clashes, between Faunus and Humans in the streets. Activity from subversive elements are at an all-time high within Vale, and you continue to obstruct me at every turn! Why won't you let me bring my men in to bolster the city's security?"

Ozpin took a long sip from the coffee mug on his cog gear desk, the scent of the brew palpable from where I sat across the office. He then set down the cup, pressed the tips of his fingers together, rested his elbows on his desk, and finally replied.

"James. While I appreciate the concerns you have so passionately raised, your suggestions are not practical. It is not a solution to sow panic amongst the people by parking an army over the horizon."

"It is the only recourse I have left! Your refusal to act on any of these concerns is one thing, but refusing to allow my men to operate within the city is just ludicrous. I see no reason why you would deny me the opportunity to pursue my inquiries when you refuse to take action!"

"I refuse, James, because there is a tenuous balance I am trying to maintain the order within Vale, and our relationship with the higher powers in, the wider world of Remnant. A balance that would not survive ham-handed recklessness by unknown third parties. The risk of your agents irreparably affecting the status quo is one I am not going to take. Not when it would affect the people living in Vale, and my students here in Beacon Academy."

And there is my cue.

"Funny, Headmaster Ozpin, that you should mention your students."

Three pairs of eyes turned towards me as I pushed off my seat and, metaphorically, took center stage; one belonging to General Ironwood, the crooked shades of Headmaster Ozpin of Beacon Academy, and a pair of spectacle-framed emeralds belonging to the attractively blonde secretary standing behind Headmaster Ozpin's seat.

"I must say, between the stories General Ironwood told me and what I have seen so far, you are the last person who should be talking about 'concern for your students.' With all due respect, of course."

Headmaster Ozpin leaned back in his chair before asking.

"And you are?"

I smiled, trying for a neutral yet cheerful expression, as I addressed the Headmaster.

"Wilson Pink. Or, more formally; Corporal First Class Wilson Pink, Medical Corpsman of the 5th Long Range Scout Division of the Mistral Armed Forces. Inquiries Officer, Military Intelligence, served with the Internal Affairs Unit designated 'Arbitrator.' Now Personal Aide-De-Camp to General James Ironwood, and attached Devil's Advocate."

It was a long introduction, but it brought a point across; my rank indicated the official capacity of my presence, and I served my military career in two of the more demanding roles in two of the most demanding military units in Mistral. My role demonstrated my loyalty foremost to General Ironwood, and a Devil's Advocate?

"You're a Lawyer?" The blonde secretary asked incredulously.

I tossed the silver ring onto the desk. The blonde was confused, but Headmaster Ozpin knew what it symbolized, and his pale face turned deathly.

"Yes, and you will not believe the number of terms, set out expressly in the Hunter's Accords, you have violated."

Headmaster Ozpin stared over his shades at me for a tooth-grinding moment, before finally saying.

"James, Mr. Pink. Could you give Glynda and me a moment?"

* * *

Well done, Corporal. The whole thing went according to plan."

"You think so, Sir? Headmaster Ozpin does not strike me as someone who is too worried about breaking the rules."

General Ironwood pulled out a hip flask and took a swig before answering.

"No, Ozpin was never one for the rules. However, his disregard for regulations is matched by his concern for others. A court-martial and the subsequent investigation would be something he would never allow if it would adversely affect the people around him."

"And would an investigation adversely affect the people around him?"

"You tell me. You read the files I showed you, and you have the evidence I collected."

Bias in favor of a student two years too young for admittance into the Secondary Hunter's training programs. Overlooking forged admittance transcripts, failure to expel the student who possessed said forged transcripts, and wholly inappropriate attire for a secretary. A window for cleavage is just a waste of a good blouse.

How is this man still Headmaster?

"In any case," General Ironwood continued, "Ozpin will likely be more open to the idea of cooperation now. All thanks to you Corporal, Well done."

I folded my arms and leaned back against the wall, shifting around the metal pebble tucked away in the pocket of my coat, and ran a hand over the smoothly thick contours of my face and neck. Attempting to knead the exhaustion out from the muscles. It had been a long day, and I could still feel Argyle slamming into the concrete.

"Yes, I helped abuse the Accords for personal gain. All in a day's work for a Devil's Advocate, isn't it?"

General Ironwood gave me a look of appreciative surprise.

"You disapprove?"

Disapproval was a term that fell quite off the mark. To put what I felt into context; the Hunter's Accords is the document which gives the Hunter's themselves legitimacy. The terms listed in the thousand plus pages, and the attendant binding precedents, all worked together to elevate the Professional Monster Hunter to a degree of respectability unattainable amongst the likes of Mercenaries, or Hunters for Hire.

I spent the formative part of my six years in basic training getting the Accord's beaten into my head by heavyweight tutors and spent the rest writing enough essays on the damn thing to wall-paper an entire office tower. I hated every minute of it. The time and effort I spent had led me to respect and appreciate, the significance of the Accords on a vital aspect of human society in Remnant. The Accords were what made the job a calling to fight for something greater than oneself. Now it's a bargaining chip.

It wasn't disapproval I felt then. It was more akin to disappointment. Mixed with the surprising fact that I cared enough to be disappointed about the General's casual attitude towards the Accords.

I found myself unable to put my thoughts into anything shorter than three sentences, so General Ironwood beat me to the punch by placing a warm, conciliatory hand on my shoulder.

"It's good that you disapprove. However, there are times when we have to act questionably to serve the greater good. Now, come on, let's see what the decision our mutual friend has come to is."

Friend? Considering the circumstances, that's more akin to a threat.

* * *

"You introduced yourself earlier as 'Corporal Pink.' Are you, Wilson Pink, by any chance?"

I glanced back at the General from where I stood, in the center of the office where a hundred gears stared down at me as they ground their teeth continuously, without rest or complaint. Through the gaps, a high window afforded momentary glimpses of the sky painted in the fading of the day. The effect was one of shades and shadows, of something hidden within the concealment of the inevitable twilight.

"Yes?" I replied as Headmaster Ozpin leaned back into his chair.

"Interesting. I have taken the liberty of conducting a brief search, and I must say what I found is quite impressive. You graduated from three, incredibly demanding, training programs, which is quite an impressive accomplishment. However, for someone of your talents, you have had remarkably few successes to show for it."

I glanced back at General Ironwood, again.

"I like the comfort that comes with anonymity. Sir."

Especially when that anonymity should have been guaranteed by a man with the power and influence to assure it.

Headmaster Ozpin smiled.

"Well, I suppose you would do after the Vanguard Incident …"

I whipped around and glared at General Ironwood while the Headmaster continued.

"But I can respect your wishes, so long as those requests do not cause any trouble for anyone else during your stay. I'm sure you can appreciate that, just as I will respect your anonymity and James's eagerness to act on whatever he has in mind."

I didn't disagree, which helped to assuage the discomforting guilt about using the law as a tool of manipulation. To an extent.

"As long as we can agree on that point." Headmaster Ozpin said as he passed a folder to the blonde woman standing next to his desk. "Now, you've had quite a long day. I'll hand you over to Glynda, here, to show you to your room. And introduce you to your teammates."

"No need Headmaster. If your secretary would just pass me the directions, I'll make my way around."

"Secretary?"

What? A blonde woman in a short skirt and glasses, who isn't a secretary? Inconceivable.

"SECRETARY?! LISTEN HERE YOU LITTLE …!"


	4. Chapter 4

My name is Wilson Pink, and dealing with monsters is my bread and butter. At least it would be once I'm formally licensed. To get licensed, however, requires a teamwork component in the syllabus, and that is not my 'bread and butter' by any means.

It's not that I can't work with others, it's a survival requirement in the army after all. I just have terrible experiences when I am part of a team.

That was what I thought when the professors introduced me to my teammates, a mixed bunch of dramatic individuals. It's like they dressed to a theme of some sorts when they got ready for the day, and it was the first time I ever saw lime-green hair on a girl.

The only other male looked run-of-the-mill, favouring steel-grey tones for his clothes and black for his greaves and boots. His eyes though had the cheerful, laid-back nature of a man who did not care. At all. The kind of man I had seen amongst the members of the Nuclear/Bio-waste Response Unit of the Medical Corps, and the Interrogation Specialists of Military Intelligence. Dealing with the hard core kind of questioning, the kind that contravened all Military Law and Conventions.

The girl with lime-green hair had flawless chocolate skin, attitude, and the fingers of a thief. She's the reason I never leave anything of value in the room we shared, and one of two reasons that made me set my morning alarms for, at least, an hour before they woke up, so that I may get my gear without risk of her breaking into my locker.

The last female on the team was the second reason why I made an effort to get up early every day. Furthermore, I started sleeping with my knife under my pillow because of her. She talks in her sleep, muttering and chanting in some weird language throughout the night. That scares me.

I never intended to be anything more than professional, throughout my tenure with my new teammates. And for a week after our first introduction, it was so; we kept to our routines, and ourselves, wherever we went, plus I judiciously plugged my ears whenever the other three huddled up for one of their, numerous, private conversations. That entire week, to me, was to have been an indication of the team dynamic for the foreseeable future. Until I managed to get a seat next to the man named Mercury.

For someone with the eyes of a combat veteran, Mercury was capable of passionate vehemence towards anyone who gets on his bad side. One such person was a mutual acquaintance of ours; one Glynda Goodwitch, who is not a secretary, as Glynda decisively pointed out during our first encounter. That vehemence came to light during a lecture, when Mercury called Glynda a bitch. Both under his breath, and to my surprise.

"Excuse me?" I asked while jotting down a stray quote posted on the screen behind the lectern.

"That Professor Goodwitch, she's been giving you and me weird looks for the past hour. Stuck-up bint thinks she's better than everyone else."

"Ah. No, I think it's because I called Glynda a 'secretary' when we met the first time." I clarified. Before looking up from my notebook, and catching Mercury's look of shocked interest at me.

"In my defence, her attire was very misleading. And besides, she might also be glaring at us because you have your feet on the desk."

Mercury looked at me, then looked down at his boots, crossed heel over laces atop the shared counter which connected that row of seats in the lecture hall. An expression of dumb revelation crossing his elfin features before it was all whipped out of my sight when something punched him in the face. I ducked to my left, away from Mercury, and dove to the floor. Unfortunately, I was drilled right in the temple mid-dive, turning my graceful leap to safety into a disastrous crash landing onto the lecture floor.

Over the uproar, and the throbbing of my elbow and head, I heard Glynda's voice over the clamour. An unblemished tenor calmly magnified by a microphone.

"Mr Pink, Mercury. Please refrain from talking during the lecture."

* * *

The entire affair between me and my team became a little more intimate after that run in with Glynda. We still kept our routines, and I always had my headphones whenever the others were having their private conversations. Yet, points of intersection between our individual habits soon became evident over time; the most obvious one involved Mercury, who seemed to appreciate another guy in the team he could talk to. The girls kept to themselves, as girls usually do. But we began to exchange pleasantries whenever time allowed, and once somehow managed a meal together. It was an awkward experience, but it did bring us closer as a team, to an extent. The subsequent question then becomes; was that enough?

I had to find my answer during the next practical exam, which was to be graded collectively, and entirely dependent on our ability to work together to accomplish a given objective. As befits a school which trains people to hunt monsters, this exam had a predominantly combative element to it, and while killing monsters is my bread and butter, I consider combat as my gift to humanity.

"So, who do you think we'll be fighting this time?"

I looked up at my teammate's words, my gaze falling onto Emerald Sustrai's braided lime-green hair, and the muscles on her bared belly working intriguingly in tandem with the swinging of her legs. Sitting as she was, on a crate pushed up against the wall opposite me.

"For a school which trains hunters, we don't practice hunting monsters all that often," Mercury remarked in a bored monotone, lounging beside me on the hard bench. His hands were resting atop messy grey hair, and his boots reaching out to block the width of the corridor.

"I'm sure that whatever it is, it shan't prove much of a challenge for veterans like us."

Instinctively, I reached over my right shoulder and pounded the wall behind me three times, hard. It was an old military charm I picked up from the platoon I was attached to in the Scout Rangers, for exorcising bad luck or counteracting a jinx. At the same time, my regard for Cinder Fall, sitting opposite Mercury on a similar bench, dropped a few notches below non-existent. She was a capable enough person at the best of times, not to mention both ravishing, and possessing the natural glamour and charisma that comprises two-thirds of what makes a leader.

Unfortunately, she had gained the two-thirds at the expense of the most important element which makes a great leader; awareness of the world beyond her line of sight, because of the first rule of combat, warfare, and monster hunting is this; everything is a challenge, especially for veterans.

Of course, to be fair, Cinder could not access the Covenant, which meant that she could not have possibly felt the foreboding weight which seeped through the walls and settled all over us, turning the waiting area into a swamp of negativity and sluggish frustration.

"Why are you hitting the wall, Wilson?"

I looked at each of my three teammates, in turn, starting from Mercury, and noted the residual effect of the miasma which my bond with the Covenant had been nullifying to some degree. Mercury's bored lethargy, Emerald's fidgeting, and the shrewish snap in Cinder's words. Before turning to Cinder, saying.

"For luck."

Cinder's eye's flashed gold as she flicked her luxurious, ebony curls over a perfectly edged shoulder and stuck me with her best imperious glare.

"Oh? Am I somehow bringing bad luck to you?"

I shifted in my seat and looked aside, the Covenant's insight allowing me to trace the source of the miasma, behind a pair of steel sliding doors set at the end of the corridor directly to my right.

"Luck won't matter. Whatever is out there, it's far too big for that."

Silence fell over us, broken by Cinder's reply.

"It seems all that armour you have on is getting to your head."

"On at least three occasions," I shot back, "this suit has kept my head on my shoulders, in spite of; an madman's Dane Axe, a sniper's bullet, and the best efforts of what I can only describe to you as a hungry, bone-plated chicken. I'd like to see what your 'post-apocalyptic grunge' ensemble will do when you trip over a stone."

Cinder's neck and shoulders stiffened in outrage. It seems the miasma has had a greater effect on me than I had thought.

In any case, a pneumatic hiss heralded the opening of the steel doors, and I stood up, snapping on the gas mask just as the held back miasma flooded the corridor in a noxious tsunami, visible only through the Covenant's sight. Cinder took the lead out the opening doors, followed closely by Emerald. I fell in line behind Mercury and ploughed into the dark weight, gripping my weapon across my chest against the foul shadows as I followed my teammates into the Arena.


	5. Chapter 5

Morituri te salutant. We who are about to die, salute you. Apropos, considering the surroundings into which my team and I had just walked. An oval coliseum greeted us when we stepped out of the artificial light into the perfect midday autumn, and metal gave way to dirt and grass.

The vista before me was picturesque enough to be placed on a brochure; a vast clearing beneath a sky devoid of clouds, enough to feel the full effect of the sun on one's face. Fortunately, I had the foresight to stick a cooling system in my armor, which kept my body temperature comfortably regulated despite the gear thrown across my shoulders and back.

Furthermore, the suit was not as cumbersome as I made it out to be. Comprised as it was of unadorned brown plates, autographed by combat and bullets, and held together by Kevlar-silk cords draped over dark gray combat fatigues. Atop the armor, slings and straps held pouches and pockets in a web of supplies, ammunition, and grenades that would have looked unwieldy to a casual observer.

The last three slings that hung slack over the tactical webbing held my primary firearm, my sidearm which I looped over a waist belt, and a bayonet sword swinging loosely beneath the gun. Taking all that into consideration, I was probably traveling light compared to an average infantryman.

"Alright," I heard Cinder say, her voice slightly reverberating through my mask, "let's get this over with."

Without pause, I began looking around for something to hit to counteract the jinx. Turning clockwise, I found a pile of rocks, shrubbery, a copse of vibrantly thick trees, and a distinctly ape-like shadow blending into the shade cast by the small wood. All of which were, unfortunately, out of easy reach.

A pair of angry, red eyes simmered through the gloom when I whipped back round to face that shadow stalking us through the screen of trees. Through the Covenant's sight, I could see the invisible miasma that seeped from the trees like a leak in a septic tank; bestially foul, and thickest around the trees that I was facing.

Slowly, painfully, I reached out first to tap Mercury's arm with my right and then used my left hand to pinch a smoke grenade out of its pocket.

"What?"

A horrific yell shattered the peace of the day and would have sent me screaming in reply while looking for somewhere to hide, if not for my combat discipline and the knowledge that I had to break line of sight first before running to cover. So I pulled the pin, lobbed the grenade, and got a startling impression of knuckle-dragging fury before billowing, acrid smoke blanketed the area, obscuring everything from view. I then yelled, "on me!" before sprinting for the rock pile to my left.

Or at least I think I screamed 'on me.' On hindsight, I could just as easily have been merely screaming incoherently before diving behind the relative safety of the soil and stones, untangling my primary weapon just as I slammed my back against the rock.

Bringing my breathing back under control, I looked around and started as Mercury stared nonchalantly back at me, the rapid rise and fall of his chest betraying his physical condition and exertion.

"Hey," the gray haired Hunter panted, "great minds think alike!"

"Glad to see you too," I replied in relief before poking my head around the rocks, "where's everyone else?"

"Lost track of them when that thing charged us, but I'm sure they're fine. Cinder and Emerald? They are deadly if you catch my drift."

Out in the open, Cinder and Emerald scattered as the nightmarish exaggeration of a gorilla knuckled its way out of the smoke and swatted Emerald aside.

"I mean, those girls may not look it, but there is no one I'd rather have watching my back. Except for Cinder, though; she's good, but she creeps me out."

True to Mercury's estimation, Cinder managed to stay out of the gorilla's reach, throwing herself into a perfect butterfly twist, before back-flipping away as the beast's charge petered out.

Pulling back behind the stone, I turned to Mercury and said.

"Opposite our position is a grove, trees, shrubbery, and thick cover. Inaccessible to anything wider than a truck. Do you see it?"

Mercury popped his head up, before ducking back down while a frustrated roar echoed over us.

"I see it, what's the plan?"

"Emerald's down, grab her and head for the grove. I'll back up Cinder and meet you there."

"Sounds like a plan, go on three?" Mercury asked.

I chuckled and hefted my gun.

"Go," I stated before running out into the clearing.

* * *

I measured my steps as I advanced on the gorilla, placing my feet so as not to slip, and brought my weapon to bear, flipping the safety off and thumbing the selector for a three-second burst. My instructors in army basic introduced the gun as the Plasma Lance, C-89 'Boar Spear'. The grunts only called it; 'the Boner.' And as I depressed the trigger, I found it quite ironic that the Boner's Plasma blast took the creature in the back.

The beast yowled and stumbled aside, and while the monster was distracted, I caught Cinder's eye and shouted.

"To the trees! Behind you! Run!"

While Cinder ran for cover, I slipped aside to the ape's flank and fired another blast, walking the beam of superheated plasma up to the beast's torso and across its bone mask. Contoured to the shape of its skull. Long gouts of charred flesh were rent across the creature's massive musculature, and the discharged heat set off flames on what the plasma did not devour, which sent the monster into a heated dance as it attempted to extinguish the flames using a vigorous beating, with sledgehammer paws, on his smoldering meat.

The advantage would seem, to a spectator perhaps, to be on my side of the arena. However, while washing the beast down with bone-charring plasma, I recognized the monster as a Beringal. And amongst the Grimm, that army of foul corruption comprising the myriad abominations it calls kin, the Beringal was the equivalent to the Atlesian Military's Shock Trooper; horrendously tough, brutally aggressive, and trained to lead formations in rapid deployment maneuvers to both shatter enemy defenses and to push back the front lines. Thus despite the severity of its smoldering wounds, the Beringal was still twice the height of a tall man, and still lethally efficient. As it stood, the Boner's firepower would not be sufficient to stop the ape before it kills us ten times over.

So I popped another smoke grenade before following Cinder's example, dashing for and scrambling into the safety of the grove. Mercury was waiting for me, on one knee and watchful, while Emerald clung to Cinder's arms, her face pale through the brown and her teeth clenched over trembling lips.

Taking stock of the situation, I reached over my shoulder, dragged my medical kit onto the ground, and scooted over to where Cinder knelt. Taking over the brown-skinned burden with lime-green hair, I detailed Cinder and Mercury to keep watch while I dealt with Emerald.

"Tell me the truth doctor," Emerald slurred and clawed at my triceps, "I'm not going to make it, am I?"

My hands palpitated across Emerald's ribs and hips before her sudden yell indicated the fracture in her right leg.

"Congratulations," I said as I reached into the kit bag, "it's a boy."

Emerald gasped.

"Mercury, did you hear that? You're going to be a father!"

"Not without a paternity test I'm not!" Mercury shot back, just as I snapped a vial into the gel gun I extracted from the kit bag. Giving the gun a quick shake, I gripped the object in my teeth and began probing the fracture with both hands, in an attempt to realign the bones as much as possible. Before taking the gun and spraying the vial's contents over the fractured leg, lightly spreading the liquid around Emerald's leg as it foamed and hardened into a cast.

I then popped a pair of painkillers down Emerald's throat, before turning to Cinder and Mercury.

"Emerald is fine, a broken leg and a possible concussion, but that's something for the surgeon. What's the situation outside?"

Mercury replied as I crab-walked over to kneel between him and Cinder, who were both crouched behind a screen of shrubs and branches.

"The ape is pissed, and looking for us. Got a plan to take it down?"

"Plenty, but none of them viable. Unless you and Cinder are hiding high caliber weapons beneath your boots and bandages."

"Well that's a crock of shit," Mercury spat, "So what? Are we giving up?"

"For many reasons, fuck no." Leaning closer, I continued, "First, and foremost, I am not giving Glynda the satisfaction of knowing that the person who called her a 'secretary' can't handle an overgrown primate." Behind us, Emerald broke out into a fit of dazed giggles. "Secondly, we don't have to take that thing down. We just need to survive long enough to reach that."

Both Mercury and Cinder followed my directions, and together the three of us turned to regard the door standing open in one of the walls which demarcated the limits of the arena. One of many other similar doors, upon closer inspection, except all those doors were closed.

"That could be the door the Ape came through," Cinder pointed out.

That was a distinct possibility.

"It is a fifty-fifty chance that I may be wrong, but we will die if we stay here. I'll take my chances." I concluded.

"Cool. So what's the plan?" Mercury asked.

I glanced over to where the Beringal had staked itself out, seated on its haunches in the middle of the coliseum's clearing, moaning and picking at its burns with the crooked sausage that served as its finger. Focused entirely on its task, the Beringal scratched at an unusually severe bite the Boner had taken out of his belly until fresh blood ran free, before licking another finger and spreading its drool over the wound.

Fascinating observation, it seems even the corrupted spawn of evil possessed some manner of first-aid. The question now, was whether it had the same grasp of tactics.

"Cinder, you grab Emerald and head for the door. Mercury and I will distract the gorilla and cover you. You then have to come back us up, so that we all can disengage safely. Everyone clear?"

"It's cool, let's do it." Mercury drawled.

"Excuse me," Cinder snapped, "In case everyone has forgotten, I'm team leader here. And I say we're following Wilson's plan."

Excellent, one last thing.

"The lives of our brothers, lies in our hands," I said while placing my palms on both Cinder and Mercury, "the gazes of the dead rests on our decisions. Action saves lives; Victory vindicates sacrifice. Be so charged under the guiding light of the Covenant. Amen. "

I then smacked both Mercury and Cinder behind their heads and felt a silver of power from the Covenant's blessing flow into each of them through the brief moment of contact. I then brought the Boner to attention and led Mercury out from the safety of the grove before Cinder could react.

* * *

The Beringal was still picking at its scabs when Mercury and I charged it, so we drew first blood when my Plasma blast took it in its face. The beast roared defiance in the face of the heated plasma as it clambered into battle, so I placed another blast of plasma in its groin. Which kept its attention away from Mercury, who streaked in from the left and dropped kick the Beringal in its head, the impact causing an explosion which Mercury used to propel himself out of the range of a counter-attack.

Here the Beringal displayed the two most important traits that the ideal Atlesian Shock Trooper should possess; indefatigable spirit, and improvisation. Despite its injuries, the Beringal was still eager to continue the fight. However, it also recognized that its opponents had a greater range than it possessed, and they also benefitted from greater agility. So instead of attempting to charge us, the beast knuckled over to a boulder and flung the damn thing at me. Recognising that I was the one with a weapon that could hurt it.

Tracking the boulder, I waited until the last possible moment before sprinting forward and cutting into the missile's arc. And as the rock landed on the ground behind me, I stepped right and fired another plasma blast into the Beringal's knee. Co-ordinating with my movements, Mercury once again hit the beast while it was down, throwing a series of kicks which peppered the Beringal's flank with a series of gray missiles. Executing my flanking maneuver, I selected the six-second burst on the Boner's plasma blast and hit the overwhelmed beast with everything the gun had.

Six seconds later, the Boner vented steam and fell silent. Dropping to a knee, I pulled the pins of my last two smoke grenades and yelled.

"Mercury! Get to the door! Fall back!"

And as smoke filled the arena once again, I turned and ran like hell.

Heart pounding and breath rasping, I loped across the clearing in a straight line for the exit. Keeping my eyes level and watching the shadows, ready to dodge if the Beringal decided to throw another missile at us. The shaking of the ground beneath my feet, however, told me that the Beringal had decided to run us down instead.

As the quaking of the ground intensified, I started looking for Cinder and her backup, wondering just where the hell that harpy was. I faltered then when I discovered the reason for Cinder's tardiness; someone had shut the door. And the last thing I heard was a triumphantly enraged roar before the world exploded in my face.


	6. Chapter 6

"You always were a stubborn little boy."

I snorted and tried to sit up.

"Don't bother; you will need some time to heal. The Beringal's mauling had been quite severe, and it is only thanks to the protection of the Covenant that you did not die outright."

Yay. I thought as I recognized the voice berating me in my moment of debilitation.

"Which should be just enough for us to have a chat about your continual, mule-headed blasphemy little one."

The disembodied head floating before me coalesced into the expression of matronly fanaticism that was Mama Miriam. That wrinkled old woman.

"Wilson," Mama began, "you have the weapon you need to banish the corruption you now face. You keep relying on these guns, made by people who do not understand the true nature of the foe that threatens them. You subject yourself to harm unnecessarily, my son."

"Aren't you over exaggerating, Mama? There is nothing wrong with my guns."

I reached out with my right hand and wrapped my fingers around the Boner's grip only to discover that the weapon was missing the rest of the gun.

"Damn, that's the only one I had."

"Foolish boy," Mama snapped, "you would not be in this situation if you had used your ring."

"But I don't want to use my ring! People die when I do."

"People die when you don't, idiot."

Feeling something in my left arm, I used it snap my gas mask off my face.

"So what does it matter after all?"

Mama sighed and flicked me over the forehead with incorporeal fingers.

"What does it matter, after all?"

* * *

It was a small comfort for Mercury, knowing that he is faster than the gorilla.

It was enough to galvanize Mercury to fight with everything he had, knowing that he had a chance against the monster by capitalizing on his greater speed and agility against the extensive damage inflicted on his stronger, tougher opponent.

It was why instead of finding a place to hide when Wilson got pulverized, Mercury drop-kicked the distracted gorilla, the gun-barrels attached to his greaves adding an explosive bite to the strike. Twisting around in mid-air, Mercury hit the ground and dashed to the right, avoiding the primate's lashing the landing spot in retaliation. Taking a running stride, Mercury leaped up and snapped out the perfect back kick, A kick which easily made the top three, in the list of the greatest kicks Mercury had performed, so far, in his fighting career. It was a kick that would have snapped the trunk of an oak tree completely in half. Combined with the guns attached to his Greaves, the impact was enough to send the ten-foot gorilla staggering backward with a howl of exhausted agony. For a moment, Mercury believed that he had a chance, that he could slay the monster.

And a second later, he learned a new fact about the creature which, he learned later, was a Grimm; they had a rage mode.

Shades of black and red drenched the view before him; clear skies, furrowed earth, and the blazing, crimson eyes of the Gorilla knuckling over on half-cooked arms. Through the haze of blood and pain, Mercury could see the fresh holes dug across the black expanse of muscle and bone which formed the beast's torso, Muscle engorged with blood, and anger, which caused a rust red burnish which burned through the monster's scars. The result made it seem as if there was a fire burning within the Gorilla's chest, and served to create a picture of a last-ditch, and, demonic rage stomping over to where Mercury helplessly lay.

The pain Mercury felt was taken over by the patient demand of unconsciousness, a demand which Mercury railed against, refusing absolutely to give anyone, or in this case anything, the satisfaction of knocking him out. Whatever happened next, he was going to face it with his eyes wide open.

But just as the Gorilla was reaching out for him, it snorted and shrank away from a sudden pink radiance, its source just out of Mercury's line of sight. It was a ferocious brilliance, casting ravenous beams of light, luster which lashed out and devoured whatever darkness it touched.

Before the glare, the Gorilla backed away from Mercury and retreated into the center of the clearing. There it braced itself and pounded its chest, while Wilson Pink walked into Mercury's field of vision and placed himself between him, and what could very well be his death.

From where Mercury lay incapacitated, it looked as if the Gorilla was getting ready to play the most intense game of catch, in the history of games of catch, with a glowing pink ball. Despite it all, Mercury couldn't help but giggle at the thought.

"Spawn of corruption!" Wilson declared in an inhuman sound which hammered against the air, "The charge raised against you is existence in contravention of the terms of the Holy Covenant. How do you plead?"

The Gorilla hooted and slammed his fists into the ground before it threw its head back and screamed discordant defiance in answer to Wilson's question. Wilson's reply was just as succinct.

"That sounded like a 'not guilty' to me. So be it, Court is now in session."

* * *

I could feel the earth's heartbeat through the soles of my boots. Its breath whistled through the trees and recognized my case against the Beringal. That the world is alive is common knowledge. The fact that it is intelligent though? Not so much.

To be precise, there is intelligence behind the workings of Remnant. Humanity, the predations of the Grimm, and the presence of magic (or Aura) all evidence the presence of something ancient, and powerful, overseeing the scheme of things. The Covenant is what weaves these individual threads into a symbiotic web, and through which my ring could tap into the very intelligence which drew up the Covenant at the beginning (of everything, basically).

The Covenant is both literally, and spiritually, a contract put together by a power of which we know frighteningly little. The only thing those bound by the agreement know is that 'suffer not a Grimm to live' is not hyperbole (incidentally, there is a section which states 'suffer not a Faunus to live,' but that is considered an exaggerated reading of the legal precedents. Mostly.).

Tapping into the Covenant against a Grimm is the equivalent of using the nuclear option on a bug (notwithstanding that the bug in question is a locust). The collateral damage, alone, is considered one of the main reasons why hunters gradually turned away from using the Covenant's power in the battle against the Grimm. Next to other causes like pagan worship, and Heretical teachings.

By putting on that pink, intricately wrought, band on my finger. I was, in effect, waving around a weapon of mass destruction. Of course, the power itself has no notable effect on humans. However, that's like saying the residual heat from flowing magma is a minor discomfort. Especially when a 'slight discomfort' in my experience ran the gamut from blindness to mind-searing insanity, furthermore, Mercury was barely thirty feet behind me. So as the Beringal charged, all I could do was clench my fist and reply in kind. It was the only way to stop the shakes from taking over.

* * *

It was a short duel, from Mercury's point of view, lying on the ground. With his cheek smeared with dirt and looking up, the Gorilla towered over Wilson, and it only got bigger as it closed the distance.

Wilson seemed unperturbed by the storm that was rolling towards him, the only other movement he made, other than a brisk stride towards the beast, was to draw and ignite what Mercury could only describe as a pink light saber. Before breaking out first into a jog, followed by an eager lope which carried him past the beast's clubbing paw and into the Gorilla's ribs, blade tip first.

Wilson then pivoted left, allowing the Gorilla's momentum to carry it past the smaller hunter, and open its guts and left leg all over Wilson's lightsabre. As its howl of rage petered out into a defeated whine, and its leg gave way, the Gorilla crunched into the earth, its wound tearing wider as if being eaten away by the same pink light emanating from Wilson, and his weapon.

Despite being eaten alive by flesh-eating light, the Gorilla still had another set of arm and leg, limbs which continued to shove the monster towards Mercury. It's paw stretched out as it got closer, reaching out to shovel the helpless Hunter into its mouth. A grotesquely desperate, giant Gorilla version of the last meal.

Well, this is a crock of shit. Mercury thought as his fear, and his fight drained out of him. Before a pink lightsabre exploded out through the roof of the Gorilla's open mouth, and with a final growl of despair, the monster died, dissolving into a black mist which was carried away into the sky.

Then, Wilson said, standing with his lightsaber in his right hand, and his boot posed in judgment over the Gorilla's smoking remains.

"In the case of the Covenant's prosecutor, and thou filth-suckled spawn of the damned, in trial by combat. The defendant has been judged guilty, and I pass sentence. This court is adjourned, may God have mercy on what your kind calls a soul."

The pink light intensified after Wilson's 'sentencing' of the monster, and when Wilson looked down at Mercury and said.

"Good afternoon, Mercury Black. The Covenant knows you, patricide."

Behind Wilson, standing over the sword carrying Hunter, something impossibly old stooped closer to peer at Mercury's broken body. As that presence approached, the implication of the word 'patricide' spoken to him began to clarify itself in Mercury's mind.

It knows, about his father! Wilson knows?

The blade in Wilson's hand began to hum, the weight of the note increasing in direct relation to the intensity of its glare. Pressing down on Mercury's ears and head, to the exclusion of all thought, except for an old memory involving a house burning to ashes and a question, running through his mind, that he was sure he would take to his grave unanswered.

Wilson knows?!

Mercury had to be sure, he needed to be sure, but before he could wriggle away, Wilson dropped the blade. And when he grabbed his right hand with his left and pulled, the light disappeared. There stood Wilson Pink, short and plump, smoking slightly and wearing armor which had half melted into the clothes beneath it. At his feet lay the melted remains of a sword, and in his eyes, annoyance and relief played out a merry chase across his too-young face.

"Tell me the truth doctor," Mercury joked, in an attempt to bury his fear, "will I still be able to fly a plane?"

Wilson laughed. And when he knelt beside Mercury, he dragged his intact medical kit over his shoulder, pulling out a gel gun, super glue, and a roll of duct tape while saying.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news; I don't have a medical license in the first place."

* * *

Stacked atop the other, the files on the desk were in total no thicker than a reasonably thick book. All was good in the world, thought General James Ironwood as he stood and turned to the view afforded him from his office window. The art of writing concise, yet detailed reports is dying out, and it was a feat of administration that the General had managed to gather the last artists under his employ. It had cost him favors, both promised and collected, but it was worth it.

The light of the late afternoon sun painted the city skyline into a landscape painted in contrasts, warm orange against intense black, separated by a silver line, the glass of a dozen skyscrapers and structures. Light and Shadow, apart yet inseparable, a reminder of Ironwood's responsibility and the world he inhabits. It was at this time, every day, which he would wonder;

What does Ozpin see from his window?

At the same time, Ironwood would pour himself something stiff, and swear never to ask himself that question ever again. Too many bones to count.

With the scotch's burn lingering on his tongue and throat, Ironwood sank back into a leather chair and pulled the stack of files towards him. Running a hand through his hair, he picked up the first brown folder and flipped it open. Putting aside a Ziploc bag taped inside the file, Ironwood set aside his glass and pulled up the dossier regarding Wilson Pink, before appending his combat report to Wilson's profile with a stapler, and a paper clip.

A similar copy would have found its way to Ozpin's table, which was a regrettable showing of one's hand, but it was a necessary sacrifice. With Beacon's headmaster occupied by Wilson's little tricks, Ironwood would be free to pursue other avenues of inquiry and operation without interference.

Satisfied with the edits made, the General tucked the papers away, before turning to the file marked 'TULP,' and began to read.


	7. B-Roll (1) what's your fetish?

"Hey, Wilson. What's your fetish?"

Philosophical questions of such intensity had not been what I expected when I arrived in the mess hall for breakfast that morning.

"That is an issue worthy of the real scholar, what brought it up?"

Emerald stuck her tongue out as she scooped jam onto a scone.

"Just curious, Mercury over there thinks you're a pedophile."

"The hell Mercury?" I asked, turning to the Hunter with steel colored hair, who was fiddling with his cutlery while deciding on seconds.

"I tried to tell her, the correct term is 'Lolita lover,' and it refers to women with childlike proportions. Not children."

"Still, what made you think that?" I countered while flipping pancakes onto my plate.

"Boredom, mostly."

I looked at Mercury again, and said 'Fascinating thought process."

"You still haven't answered the question." Emerald pointed out over a jar of cream.

"No, I haven't, but may I guess yours?" I said, in an attempt to change the subject, "mid-height women with hips wider than their shoulders. Black hair, golden eyes …"

I snatched the scone out of mid-air before it could smack me in the face.

"You have no proof!"

"Oh come on Emerald!" Mercury cut in with an exaggerated falsetto, "Oh Cinder that was so smart of you! Yes, Cinder I will follow you to the ends of the earth! Cinder please, stand oh so close to me so that I can smell the lilac in your hair!"

Mercury's hand flickered out and caught the knife in mid-flight.

"Right," I said delicately, noting the red murder in Emerald's eyes. "What's your fetish, Mercury?"

"As long as she's hot, I don't mind," Mercury replied, turning his attention to arranging the knife in his hand next to the rest of the cutlery on his side of the trestle tables. "Although …"

I turned to follow Mercury's train of thoughts, which had derailed and was now trailing after a statuesque Huntress in a uniform that seemed a little too short for a girl of her height, and with the kind of legs that could support a roof over them.

"Red heads? Green Eyes? Or a girl way taller than you?"

Mercury turned back to me.

"Why not all of them?"

"Hey, Wilson! Stop changing the subject!" Emerald finally snapped, "what's your fetish?!"

"What's your problem?!" I snapped back. "Did Cinder ask you to inquire about me?"

"No …"

Oh?

"Just answer the question, Wilson! Or else …"

"Children," an exasperated tone of restraint floated over Emerald's outburst and cut into the conversation, "please do not shout in the mess hall."

"Good morning, Glynda."

Glynda Goodwitch turned her glare towards me and imperiously stated.

"That is 'Ms. Goodwitch' to you, Mr. Pink. Please refrain from being too familiar with the teaching staff."

"Well, that's not what you said last night."

* * *

(No, I did not have sex with Glynda Goodwitch. Yes, I got detention. But Mercury's and Emerald's expressions as I was marched off to the Headmaster's office was worth the subsequent tongue lashing by every teacher on Beacon's staff. I didn't mind, Glynda always looked cute when she was mad.)


	8. Chapter 8

My name is.

 **Wilson Pink, are you free to talk? Ironwood.**

I looked up from the blowtorch, and what remained of my gear from the Beringal hunt, to my scroll, and began to type a response on the gadget's screen.

The door to the workshop burst open.

"Wilson! I need your help!"

I looked at Cinder Fall, desperate and framed in the doorway, and typed a response.

* * *

"No!"

"Indeed. Emerald? Stealing? Impossible!"

I snapped my head around to look at Cinder striding beside me, her black hair luxurious around her shoulders and bobbing in furious rhythm with her steps.

"I believe what's 'impossible' is the fact that no one caught her earlier."

"And what is that supposed to mean?!" The huntress snarled as her heels clattered to a halt, and a deceptively strong hand turned my bulk around to face her squarely.

"Cinder," I replied patiently, "I know, that you know, that I know about Emerald's little habits. She is the reason I never leave my gear in the same room as you and Mercury. The only reason why I, or anyone else, hasn't said anything about this is because no one has found evidence."

"Just!" Cinder began before she clamped her mouth shut and looked away. Folding her arms beneath her chest. Subtle.

"I know, that you know what Emerald is like, but she has her reasons, and she didn't do it this time."

And I was literal when I meant 'subtle,' Cinder had a good figure, but she lacked the chest needed to make it work. The effect of her folding her arms beneath her chest was to such a degree of subtlety that you would need an expert from the University of Subtlety, with a degree in subtle studies, to pick up on it.

Then again, one must believe me when I say that I wasn't looking at her chest in the first place. Instead, I was looking at her Aura, the energy that comes from the Covenant yet is not of it, and watching its ebb and wane as she proclaimed Emerald's innocence. What I see through the Covenant's sight, will decide what I do next, which was to burst through the door to Headmaster Ozpin's office a few minutes later.

"Hold your applause and your outrage gents! Advocate Wilson Pink has arrived, save it all for the end of the show!"

Just as the sword is the tool of a warrior, audacity serves the Advocate in its field of battle.

"Mr. Pink. An unexpected pleasure, what brings you here?"

Like my previous visit, the office seemed to me to be less a suite of personal quarters, and more akin to space hastily converted for the Headmaster's inscrutable purposes. Throughout the space which towered ominously over me, the gears that I remembered ground their teeth endlessly while their eyes glared silently over the Headmaster's back, scrutinizing the two intruders who had so noisily (and theatrically, I might add) trespassed upon this room of continuous industry.

Clearing my throat, I said.

"I was told that my teammate, Emerald Sustrai, was being tried here for theft?"

"Oh! Nothing so dramatic Mr. Pink, it is merely a matter of a disciplinary inquiry that the Discipline Mistress Glynda Goodwitch is conducting. Her office is on the third floor."

Cinder coughed, attempting to avoid both the Headmaster's stare and my own as she said.

"Apologies, gentlemen. I appear to have been much affected by current events."

"Apology accepted, Ms. Fall." Headmaster Ozpin finally said. "Now, if there is nothing else?"

* * *

"Emerald, are you here?"

Stepping into Glynda's office was akin to stepping into an old mansion's smoking room. Plush carpets and soft chairs liberally drenched in masculine colors, with the walls decorated with pictures of hunting and the more sensuous themes of humanity. Which I chose to interpret as a manner of repressed, subconscious desire that bears scrutiny. The only concession to modernity was the desk that was set up to the right of the door that I had poked my head through. Glass-topped and held up by a black, wavy stand with only the bare necessities atop the transparent surface.

Emerald sat sullenly in a smaller, plastic chair opposite the desk.

"Wilson? What are you doing here?"

I nodded amiably at the huntress with braided, lime-green hair.

"Glad to see that I got here before Glynda pulled out the thumbscrews. You holding up?"

"Mr. Pink," Glynda asked sternly, looking severely at my intrusion over her spectacles. "What are you doing here?"

"Good morning Glynda," I replied cheerfully, with my head poking through the doorway of her office, "I heard that someone is accusing my teammate of theft, so I'm here to prove her innocence."

Standing up from her seat behind the desk, Glynda turned her attention entirely to me with an expression of curiosity which, somehow, enhanced the strict symmetry of her flawless face.

"How do you know that Emerald is innocent?"

"Because my team leader said so. And if you can't trust your team leader's judgment of her teammates, who else could be trusted?"

Speaking of team leaders, I thought as Cinder Fall barged past me into Glynda's office.

"Ms. Goodwitch!" Cinder demanded as she strode into the middle of the room, "I formally object to the accusations made against my teammate, Emerald."

"Ms. Fall," Glynda replied, in a calm tone which brooked no opposition. "You have no right to object to anything; there is no offense formally charged against Ms. Sustrai here, yet. What's happening now is merely an inquiry as to the validity of the accusations against your teammate."

"To which," I cut in, "I, as a Devil's Advocate, have the right to listen in, to scrutinize both the evidence provided and the impartiality of the processes used throughout the inquiry. According, of course, to the Second Paragraph of the Third Article of the Fourth page of the Hunter's Accords regarding Ethics and Conduct." I carefully added.

"Of course, Mr. Pink," Glynda replied wearily.

"Before we begin, however. I am curious as to how Ms. Fall knew I was a Devil's Advocate in the first place?"

Cinder looked at me and said slowly.

"I and everyone else who has not been living under a rock heard about how you, with the General Ironwood's blessing, blackmailed the Headmaster into admitting you into Beacon, and the Vytal Festival tournament despite the lateness of your entry."

Ok. That is a rumor I might have to address, sometime in the future.

"Fair enough," I said out loud before continuing "Let us begin then, Glynda."

"Goodwitch, Mr. Pink. And yes, we shall now begin."

Clearing her throat, Glynda took a moment to shuffle the notes on her desk before eyeing Emerald, and saying.

"Emerald Sustrai, you are accused by one Jennifer Verde, for the crime of theft." Looking to her left, Glynda continued. "Ms. Verde, will you please state your name for the record, and relate the sequence of events about the alleged crime."

From the shadows, a girl with lanky, dirty blonde hair sloped into the light. I was just surprised I didn't notice her earlier. Even without the Covenant's sight, not many people could escape my notice without any effort.

Her story was straightforward if nothing else; Verde had seen Emerald walking down the corridor away from her room one night, and upon entering said room, found a number of her valuables missing. Straight-forward enough; missing items, a known thief in the vicinity of missing items, probable cause leading to effect. However, justice demands a more rigorous standard, one that must transcend all doubts of a reasonable person.

"Ms. Verde," I said, taking up the thread of the conversation where her tale ended, "when you first saw Emerald in the corridors near your room, on the night in question, where, exactly, in the corridors were you?"

Verde started and hesitantly replied.

"I just needed to turn a corner, and I would have seen the door of my room."

"And at which point of the corridors did you meet Emerald?" I further asked.

"Just before I rounded the corner," Verde replied.

"So, am I right to say that you did not see Emerald come from your room? Only that she was walking from the direction of said room? I assume you passed Emerald in the corridor since the both of you were walking towards each other from opposite directions, what did you notice about her then?"

Verde's answer was inconclusive. She had looked away as Emerald walked past her, intimidated by the larger girl's presence left in her wake. Although the faint impression Verde got off Emerald was a degree of anger, radiating off the rigid set of her shoulders and neck.

"Circumstantial evidence all around, Glynda," I said while walking over to lean over her desk. "Nothing to either place Emerald in Verde's room or connect the item's disappearance with Emerald's presence. Do you have a list of the missing items?"

"Yes, but I think that is irrelevant to the question. Mr. Pink. And Emerald's defense. Based on Ms. Verde's statement, we can place Emerald nearby her room during the incident in question."

I glanced over at where Verde was sitting and noted that she had withdrawn into the shadows again. When did she do that?

"The same can be said for your case, Glynda. Unless you have something that conclusively puts Emerald at Verde's room, I don't believe Emerald's charges will stick."

There was a knock on Glynda's office door.

"Should we hold off on a decision," Glynda cheerily began, "until after we hear Ruby Rose's testimony?"

The both of us turned towards the tiny girl, apprehensively framed within the threshold, and wearing a red hood over her Beacon Academy uniform, consisting of a brown blazer, and a chequered pattern skirt.

"Ms. Goodwitch? Headmaster Ozpin said you wanted to see me."

"RUBY!" Emerald shouted from her seat, "You little!"


	9. Chapter 9

"Strawberry Shortbread!"

"Sorry, you've only got brown bread left," Mercury said, replying to my annoyed outburst, before jamming a piece of toast into his mouth.

"An apt description of Emerald's situation right now," I muttered in disgust, pouring myself a cup of coffee.

"In what way?"

"No options left."

"That sounds drastic."

"No, what's drastic is Cinder's ridiculous demands." I sighed.

* * *

I stared up at Cinder as she voiced her ridiculous demands.

"Any result other than a cessation of this investigation is unacceptable, Wilson!"

"I don't believe you have any say as to what is 'acceptable,' or not, in this situation Cinder." I pointedly stated. "Glynda's case against Emerald, combining both this Ruby Rose's testimony and Ms. Verde's statement, is substantial enough to warrant a trial. And that will require an investigation of some kind."

Throwing the sheaf of papers I had been reading onto my bed and leaning back against the adjoining wall, I yawned and scratched at my belly before continuing.

"What you are asking for is a straight dismissal of Emerald's case. And barring extraordinary evidence, I find such a result unlikely at best."

Pacing across the length of our shared room Cinder spat over the floor rug being worn apart by her high heels.

"That will not do! You're the lawyer, aren't you? Do your 'thing' and get Emerald out of this!"

"Cinder!" I snapped back, my annoyance bubbling over into eye-stinging frustration, "I read the law, I interpret the finer points of legislation for the benefit, and the advantage, of my client. But you're going to have to get down on your knees and blow me if you want a fucking miracle!"

Allow me to relate, in a general manner, a little of my combat record at this point in the narrative; on the shores of Menagerie, an island of Faunus in the middle of some Covenant-Forsaken sea. I faced down the gunfire, and light artillery, from a cult of frenzied mutants with more guts than tactics, but had the numbers and the enthusiasm to back their gumption up. I survived a duel with a Beowulf Boss before its lupine pack, in the midst of a thunderstorm. Taking its paw in the process and holding my ground without the aid of the Covenant, until reinforcements arrived. I've hauled wailing infants from screaming mothers and dragged half-torn bodies through crossfires and ambushes. None of the above scared me more than when Cinder began to unbutton her blazer and reach for my pants.

"Oi!" I yelled, hurling my pillow into the woman's surprised face. "No! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

The impact sent her stumbling back onto her bed, placed along the wall opposite mine. She then hurled the pillow back at me, which I caught before it smashed across my face. I grabbed the coffee mug too, and a hardback version of the novel 'Les Miserables.'

"You disgusting! Perverted! Son of a sow! You asked me to blow you! How dare you act embarrassed?! Do you even understand how mortifying that was! And you dare be outraged …!"

"I was joking you crazy bitch! Do you take every random catcall and proposition that seriously?"

"I take the problems of my friends seriously!"

Cinder was about to continue, but the words died in her throat before dissolving into barely restrained sobbing. The sobs intensified, despite their muffling when Cinder wrapped her arms around her knees and buried her face in her arms.

Well, I sighed, for this was not how I expected my day to go. I have always been leery when women began to cry, for I am always amazed at the number of killing blows that could follow from such a vulnerable looking position. However, I found myself getting up, compelled by my distress-induced reaction to someone in heart-aching anguish, and gently sat down beside Cinder. Awkwardly reached over, and gently patted her on the back.

On Cinder's part, the huntress quickly pulled herself back together by using my hand as a point of focus. She then snapped a hammer fist down into my crotch, which I managed to deflect with my thigh and a curse. But before I could retaliate, Cinder shot up to her feet and struck me with a steely, golden-flamed glare while readjusting her clothes.

"You need a miracle, Wilson Pink? I will deliver one. But if you fail me, I will make your time here a living hell."

Cinder then stormed out of the room before I could reply.

* * *

"Ah, well." Mercury coolly said as he fiddled with the handle of his coffee cup. "Don't mind Cinder too much, ok? She might not look like it, but she takes things like teammates very seriously. And don't get me started on family matters."

I looked at Mercury over my cup.

"Family? What, is Emerald her sister?"

"In all but blood," Mercury shrugged, "although I think Emerald wants the relationship to progress a little … but I don't ask. And, deadly serious, neither should you. You're a cool guy, ok? But I am not putting my neck between your ass and Emerald's, or Cinder's, blades. No matter how big the gorilla you killed was."

I chuckled, and replied, "That's fair."

Giving up in the notes chafing in the palm of my hand, I tossed the bundle onto the table between Mercury and me and stretched. Mercury took the opportunity to snatch the notes off the table, and began to rifle through the pages with peanut butter, and jelly encrusted fingers.

"Huh, this is weird. Emerald usually doesn't steal things like these."

I perked up curiously.

"What do you mean, 'doesn't steal things like these'?"

In answer, Mercury smoothed his unruly steel hair back over his scalp, and his posture took on the air of a lecturer talking to his pupil.

"Right, listen up kid."

I'm sure I have never had the chance to smack a lecturer before. I feel that I might enjoy it.

"Emerald steals things for a reason, namely; she steals things from people she likes. And never anything valuable, just something that will get her target's attention. Furthermore, she always returns what she took, usually with an invitation of some sort. Look at the list here, however, and you can see that the things are valuable; tech, jewelry, and a collectible doll? Who the hell steals something like that?"

"Wait, you're telling me that Emerald has never stolen money before?"

"Well," Mercury hesitatingly admitted, "that was something she used to do, she only ever takes cash in such cases, and never anything to exchange for cash."

"What's the difference?" I asked.

"You try selling a scroll, or pawning a limited edition collector's item!" Mercury exclaimed, "With all the paperwork involved, and the resulting trail of information left behind, you might as well go offer your hands for the cops to cuff!"

I took the list back from Mercury, grimacing at the feeling of peanut butter on my fingertips.

"So, you're saying that Emerald steals as a way to communicate to others, and when she does take, only cash?" I groaned, though, "Fascinating as that information is, the fact that Emerald is a kleptomaniac is hardly going to be any help to her case. If anything, the investigation will be that much more rigorous, to discern when exactly Emerald steals, and for which reason."

"It's some lead though, right?" Mercury asked.

"You happen to have any more of those lying around?" I countered.

"Well, I did get to know this Verde girl quite intimately a couple of nights ago."

Shit! My coffee cup!

"You slept with Verde? Should I be surprised that you have withheld that particular bit of information?"

"A gentleman never tells, especially about his conquests."

Infuriating, but as quickly as that flash of irritation erupted through my head, a calm realization doused the flame. With the dim formation of a miracle swirling before my eyes, I turned around to Mercury and quietly asked.

"Do you remember where Verde's room is? By any chance?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Cinder, Pink. Possible lead, following up. Distract Verde as long as possible.**

"Wilson, why did you want to come here?"

I looked up from the screen of my Scroll as Mercury, and I turned the corner of the deserted corridor and found ourselves standing before Verde's room, the scene of the crime. The afternoon had just come upon the day, and the silence of the place weighed heavily on my throat, and I found myself unable to reply as the pair of us approached the room.

"Do you want that door opened?" Mercury asked to break the silence, "because you're shit out of luck there, Emerald is the only one who can pick locks."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, Mercury." I croaked, "Keep watch, I don't believe we will be here long."

As Mercury sloped off, I turned back to the door, reached into the pocket of my blazer, and slipped my ring over my ring finger. The pink band wrapped itself snugly around the large digit before coming to life with a warm, but dim, glow. I was leery about using my ring outside of combat, but there was something I needed to find here, and I needed the Covenant's guidance to lead me to my goal.

Popping the bones in my neck, I extended my hand towards the room's door and gingerly reached out for the Covenant's power. It was similar to grabbing lightning, and I was entirely unsure as to what would happen once I made contact with a raw energy that towered leagues above the heaviest weapons in nature's armory.

Fuck me!

"Hell, no!" Mercury called back as I reeled from the agony that crackled through my nerves and sliced through my muscles with horrific cramps.

I would have replied, but I had to fight off the onset of a seizure as I corralled the Covenant's surge safely through my physical form; up my feet, down my arms, all through my bones, and the nerves that ran the length of my spine, down from my brain. Visions of pain and heartbreak danced merrily across my eyes as my breath escaped my lungs in rapid bursts until finally, my body began to accommodate the Covenant's effects on my body.

It has been awhile since I actively tapped into the Covenant in such a way, and as with a new suit of armor, apparently, I must take measures to re-acclimatize myself to that energy if I was to avoid a similarly excruciating experience the next time I used the Covenant.

At last, I was able to exert some degree of influence over the furious flow of power, and deftly focused it on my senses; touch, sight, hearing, smell, and taste. The Covenant enhanced each beyond the limits of either man or Huntsman, and in concert, each heightened faculty brought to life the world beyond physical sight. Revealing a tapestry of interwoven threads floating in mid-air, each humming with deadly power, and which can't be cut, or harmed, by any physical weapon. Gently weaving in the space between the walls of the corridor, filling the deceptively delicate pattern with all manner of colors and shapes ordered in their chaos. Contradictions and paradoxes manifested visually in a way that I could comprehend, at a level that I would consider primitive.

I was back in the Web of the Covenant, and I had forgotten how beautiful it was.

Gently, I began to part the threads, wincing at the slight shocks that tickled my fingers as I burrowed deeper into the Web. Strings of varied hues thrummed with the myriad rhythms that beat in an individual's body, while the white lines lightly stung my fingertips whenever I brushed against them. There was nothing beneath the weave, however, to show for the pain.

"Hey! Pink! Found anything?"

By way of a reply, I walked over to the wall Mercury was leaning on, fiddling with his Scroll, and clapped my hand on the back of Mercury's head. Sending a silver of the Covenant into Mercury, which allowed him to share my Covenant enhanced sight briefly.

"What do you see?" I whispered.

"Nothing?" Mercury replied in an equally hushed voiced.

"Indeed. Let's see where it leads."

* * *

Taking the lead down the corridor, Mercury and I followed the glaring absence of either thread or significant hue, in the web of magic as it trailed down the passage. To my sight, the absence was akin to the backwash of a boat, slicing across the surface of a lake. It had taken a great effort to perceive the trail through the tangle of the Covenant's Web. This hidden scar was easy to follow, once I knew what I was looking for, and seemed to me too raw, too charged with emotion, to be considered natural.

The potential trail of evidence ended in an old storage closet; empty save for a pair of old mops, a rusty bucket, and a concealed panel set in the right-hand corner of the wall opposite the door. A pool of black emotion congealed around the corner, a hole framed by white threads of pure energy. An indication that few people know about this room and visitors are infrequent at best, save for whatever had left that gap in the Web, above what I assumed was a hidden compartment in the space.

I wouldn't risk anyone's limb in such a situation (booby traps, for example). Except Mercury was not just 'anyone,' he was currently my assistant, which was why I asked him to kick in the panel.

"Hey, Wilson, check it out; there's a Scroll, a pair of rings, and a doll hidden here."

I stepped closer and peeked over Mercury's shoulder, focusing less on the items in my assistant's hands, and more on the darkness congealing over the objects, the same shadow which had led us here from Verde's room. The mess stuck to my touch, slimy, and heavy with negativity; outrage, fury, and heartbreak which felt ready to boil over and explode any moment.

"These things were what was listed as stolen on the list, right? What are they doing here?"

"I don't suppose Emerald hides what she steals like a lime-green magpie, does she?"

Mercury's responding look was enough of an answer and raised more questions, and other considerations; neither the property which was reported stolen nor the manner of disposal of stolen property, matched Emerald's usual habits. There was also no trace of Emerald's aura on, or anywhere near, the items in Mercury's hands. On the one hand, Emerald's innocence is definite. On the other hand, someone had taken measures to frame her. Who, and why?

And then, my Scroll started to vibrate in my trouser pocket.

 **Wilson. Courtyard. NOW. Cinder.**

* * *

I had two guns left, out of the arsenal I had brought along to first Vale, then Beacon Academy. They were a pair of handguns, the first weapons I had custom made for me after I completed Basic Military Training in Atlas. The larger gun had the designation 'Tomahawk' 36, while the smaller weapon was the 'Hatchet' 27.

The pair had hung around my waist since the start of my military career since the day I unwrapped them from their boxes and chambered the first bullet. Hence; I was hesitant to strap them on before responding to Cinder's demand for backup.

"AHHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Nope, nope! Acquiring targets!

I had my face in the grass as something exploded above my head, Mercury was right beside me as I wriggled forward, prone on the lawn.

"Come on! You stuck up sand bitch!" the booming bass rumbled across the Courtyard, in time with another heavy explosion. "No one messes with my friends! NO ONE!"

"Holy shit!" Mercury gasped, "What's got up her panties?"

I looked up from the mud.

"Lord, my Father in Heaven, watch over your servant in his time of need …"

All along the verdant green of the immaculately kept courtyard, Cinder and Emerald were fighting Jennifer Verde and two of her teammates. A hundred meters before me, Emerald ducked and twisted away from the charge of a monstrously misshapen hulk, wrapped in a star-spangled sports bikini and matching bandanna over its red hair. A grossly engorged arm scythed inches above Emerald's head, while the darker skinned Huntress rode the blow's momentum and lashed out as she spun. Sending a pair of sickles, attached to chains, flickering out and biting deep into the hulk's exposed flank.

The monster laughed, grabbed the chains and whipped Emerald once around its head before sending her flying in my direction. Pushing to my feet, I reached out and grabbed the green -haired huntress before dropping back to the ground again, Allowing Mercury a clear target for him to kick off two shots, from the soles of his boots, right into the monster's face.

"Emerald, distract it!" I cried as I tossed my teammate back at the hulk, thus freeing my hands, and allowing me to draw my tomahawk. On her turn, Emerald hit the dirt, charged towards the hulk and flung her hands out towards the towering monstrosity. There then followed a brief moment of confusion, before the beast shrieked and reeled backward, arms flapping in terror at some manner of unseen threat.

Striding forward, I felt my tomahawk buck in my hands with each shot placed in the hulk's center-mass. It did not have any noticeable effect (thankfully, considering that I was not using rubber bullets in the first place) beyond stinging pain which kept the hulk on its back foot, thus allowing me to close the distance. I kept firing even when the beast threw its painfully swollen arm up before its torso, and my bullets merely deforming harmlessly against skin hardened by some unknown means. And I kept my pace while advancing until that arm wound up and lashed out at my head, in a backhanded attempt at a surprise attack.

Dropping my weight in response generated enough momentum to get me under the backhand swing, and my right arm around the hulk's waist, when my hip jammed into the monster's own. And as the beast staggered backward, I glued my head up against a rancid smelling armpit and took a step along the creature's flank. The movement swung me around and jammed my blazer's front against the hulk's sweat drenched back. Which simultaneously unbalanced the monster, forcing it to take a step out and back to keep its balance. With its feet rooted to the spot and its body was thrown wide to its right, the hulk could only watch as Mercury leaped up and drop-kicked it square in the jaw.

I stepped out of the way before the hulk could collapse unconscious on top of me. Meanwhile, Mercury rode the beast's fall to the ground before executing a side-flip dismount and sticking the landing. He then started to sway his head left to right, and back again, then sang.

"Boom! It's going down, you're yelling?"

"I will never have sex again."

"Boys! Have you forgotten about Cinder?!"

Pausing so that Emerald may reclaim her weapons, embedded as they were in the fallen hulk's freakishly impressive abdominals. Mercury, Emerald, and I charged across the Courtyard to reinforce Cinder. Just in time to see her disarm a swordswoman with contemptuous ease, before turning to face Verde.

"Die! Just. Fucking. Die!"

Screaming incoherently, Verde flung one of her daggers at Cinder, who leaned right, allowing the blade to whistle harmlessly past, inches away from her face. Before Verde could throw her second dagger, however, I reached for the Covenant's power and slammed it through the barrel of the tomahawk. I then lined the sights on the knife-wielding madwoman and pulled the trigger. I heard the thunder cracking across the sky first before I saw Verde's head snap aside, and she abruptly crumpled into the grass like a puppet with its strings cut.

Cinder slowly turned to look at me as I walked over, my tomahawk trained on the unconscious Verde.

"She was mine to deal with." Cinder Fall stated, in an even tone that belied whatever emotion she was feeling. "I impressed upon the last person who stole my kill, how that was the last thing he was ever going to do."

Cinder hesitated a moment, before adding.

"Literally. After I chewed the guy out, the man retired. Went and opened a bookshop. It wasn't open long."

I looked at Cinder, ejected the half-melted clip from my weapon, and forced myself to jam the tomahawk back into its holster nonchalantly.

"Gosh, Cinder, I'm so sorry," I replied with mock surprise while casually thumbing at the unconscious Verde, noting the dark mass of negativity that was leaking out from beneath her hands and legs through the Covenant's sight. "But I was so eager to show that I hadn't failed you, that I plumb forgotten something you never told me about."

There followed a succession of expressions ranging from confusion, to more confusion, culminating in an outburst of melodic laughter.

"You're right, Wilson." Cinder finally said, in between breaths that did fascinating things with her chest and shoulders under the grey jacket she was wearing. "You did not fail me today, which is why you get a pass. Next time, however, do not interfere. I have a reputation to maintain with Emerald and Mercury after all."

Flipping her hair over her shoulder, and sending the scent of strawberries wafting across my nose, Cinder turned around (expecting me to clean up the mess, of course.) just in time to see Glynda storming across the courtyard. With Mercury and Emerald trailing behind her like puppies caught rooting in the rubbish bin.

"Ms. Fall! Mr. Pink! You will explain yourselves this instant!"

I stepped away from Cinder with my hands in the air.

"Have at it, oh fearless leader. She is all yours."


	11. Chapter 11

Matters proceeded smoothly after the 'Battle of the Courts', as I like to call it. Verde and her team spent the subsequent week confined to the infirmary, the Courtyard was re-turfed with nary a complaint, and Emerald's defense went something like this.

* * *

"And as you can see," I said, turning around and addressing Glynda, and the rest of my team. "Emerald's aura signature is; firstly, entirely different from the energy seen here on the items reported 'stolen' by Verde."

Across the space in Glynda's office, I lifted the green thread of Emerald's soul out from the other strings which formed the Covenant's web. Pure, vital, and free of the clinging negativity of the dark energy that hovered over Verde's belongings.

"Furthermore, it was this dark aura that was present around her room, and it was that energy that led me to the recovery of the items listed. Now, there was a slight indication of Emerald's presence near Verde's room, which coincided with Ruby Rose's, and Verde's testimony regarding Emerald's presence in the vicinity. However, there is no evidence which shows Emerald having come into contact with Verde's property. Hence showing, quite clearly, that Emerald could not have stolen something she has never even touched."

With a thought and the pink light of my ring fading away, I dispelled the manifestation of the Web into the physical aspect of the world as a whole. Before bringing my speech to a conclusion.

"Some aspects have yet to be unresolved; how did Verde's aura become this dark mess, for example. Which would require a lengthy discourse on the nature of magic, wholly unsuitable for an informal inquiry? Another question would be Verde's motive and considering her relationship with Mercury; theories come to mind. However, that is a matter for Verde to clarify when she is able. The most important fact is that Emerald could not have stolen Verde's items, and thus there is no case against her. Any questions?"

It was when Glynda stood up and tripped over her entire desk that I remembered; for those unaccustomed to the light, looking at the Web for too long would lead to temporary blindness, at best.

"Wilson!" Glynda spluttered through the sprawl of papers and spilled tea, "Get out of my office!"

* * *

Therefore, it was with a mind towards a leisurely breakfast, and a quiet day of classes when I rolled into the mess hall the morning after.

"Ruby, I am in no mood to listen to you right now. You were supposed to be my friend, and friends are meant to believe in one another. Do you know how much it hurt when you did not believe me when I said I didn't steal anything from Verde? I'm sorry, but I can't even bear to look at you right now."

Oh, Emerald. I thought despairingly.

"Hey! My sister just wanted to apologize; you don't have to be a bitch about it!"

"Stay out of this blondie."

Where was Cinder, or Mercury, when you needed them?

Exhausted, I walked into the mess hall and closed in on the argument that was boiling around Emerald and two other huntresses. One I recognized as the little, silver-eyed Ruby Rose, her red hair matching the oversized hood and cape she added onto her Beacon Academy uniform. Consisting of a brown blazer, and checked skirt. The other girl was voluptuous, with messy blonde hair that strengthened the effect of her casual sexuality, and she was leaning right in Emerald's face.

"Ladies," I pleaded as I approached the trio and stood beside Emerald "Please. Let's not get into a fight just before the mess serves breakfast."

"You should lay off on breakfast boy, or you won't be able to see out of those little eyes soon enough." The blonde said, placing her hand on my chest "And stay out of this, mommy is talking here."

I reached out the Covenant and felt my ring burn as I sent the lightning surging through me again. I do not like being touched so flippantly.

Dropping my weight, I slipped the blonde's hand over my left shoulder and jammed my hips against the unbalanced huntress. At the same time I launched my left hand up against her face, and by matching the forward surge of my hips with the moment of contact, the palm thrust sent the blonde huntress into the far wall of the mess hall with an audible crack. It was a technique from the age of swords and axes, the only one formally taught to me, many years ago. With a blade, that thrust would have cleaved the huntress's head from the inside out. Unarmed as I was, coupled with Covenant fuelled strength, that thrust would lay the huntress out with a concussion for the foreseeable future.

Flicking my hand, I nodded apologetically towards Ruby Rose, grabbed Emerald's hand, and pushed our way out of the mess hall.

Moments later, I heard Emerald say. "Alright, Pink. You can let go now."

I felt the huntress's hand jerk out of my grasp before I could react.

"And also, I didn't need your help back there."

"Who said I was helping you?" I smoothly replied, "in case you haven't noticed, that blonde girl put her hands on me. That, my dear lady, is called 'Battery.' And I was merely defending myself. Besides, sometimes you need a hands-on approach when teaching others that touching someone else without permission would result in consequences."

I sniffed, which was a little theatrical, but it felt like the right thing to do at the time.

"I certainly wasn't helping you, dear girl."

On her part, Emerald merely snorted "Whatever," before pushing past me and walking away. I waited until she turned the corner before I patted my blazer pockets, and discovered that she had palmed a small tin of lozenges I had been saving for the week ahead. That was when I remembered something Mercury said.

"She only steals things from people she likes …"

And I started to chuckle as I headed off to class.


	12. Chapter 12

"Wilson Pink; receiver of the Atlesian Combat Cross, and the Hippocratic Medal for bravery in action. Awarded the Silver Heart for gallantry in the face of danger, with the honorary rank of 'Iron Fist,' for exceptional skill in close combat techniques."

That's me, the model soldier for the Atlesian Armed Forces.

"Noted for horrible bedside manner during field treatment, recklessness under combative situations. And not to mention your nickname; the Veterinarian."

General Ironwood looked up from the folder.

"An odd nickname, and unflattering, wouldn't you agree?"

"With the number of Faunus deaths on my hands, I would suppose my nom de Guerre is meant to express my more negative aspects."

General Ironwood leaned back in his chair.

"And do you think that is a bad thing? Considering the unanimous stance towards Faunus-kind today, throughout the four kingdoms of Remnant?"

"As in?" I asked.

"Tolerance, peace." General Ironwood began, "recovery. After all, the human-faunus conflict barely ended two decades ago, and we all suffered heavy losses."

I thought for a while before replying.

"Kristoff, Private First Class. 3rd Company, 1st Platoon. Liked art, specialized in landscapes. Saberhagen, Corporal. 2nd Company, 4th Platoon. Demolitions Specialist, two kids and a wife."

I cocked my head.

"Apologies. Two kids and a widow."

I counted more names off my fingers.

"Jameson, Lars McLars, Anderson, and Bacon. Fire-team for 3rd Company, 2nd Platoon. All four were recruited from the same town, and reunited after training in separate camps. They did not survive their first mission. The same goes for the rest; I served as their medic at one point or another. Each of those times, we fought Faunus from, or in league with White Fang. Through ambush, and without heed to either collateral or provocation on the army's part. Long after the conflict was supposed to have ended."

Sighing, I continued.

"Those guys were not soldiers on a warpath, they were grunts serving their tours of duty for King and Country, or providing for children who will never understand why their father isn't going to be there to celebrate their birthdays ever again. Their deaths were unprovoked, pointless and vilified for the sake of politics, and the stance of tolerance and peace. My body count isn't a bad thing; its vengeance, to an extent."

"Indeed. And beyond that extent?"

I leaned back and folded my arms.

"Euthanasia?"

Leaning back in his chair, General Ironwood took a contemplative sip from his teacup. Smacking his lips before leaning forward again and continuing.

"Let's change the subject; Ozpin told me about your legal escapade with Cinder and her teammates. Could you relate to me how that incident has changed your relationship with that trio? Have you gotten closer to them perhaps? Intimate, even?"

Now it was my turn to savor the light aroma, and flavor of the earl grey. Bright and hot in the delicate china.

"Where to start?"

* * *

"Wilson? Could you give me a hand?"

I turned away from the bookshelf, and the 'treatise on Beowulf Pack Migration,' into a musky bouquet of strawberry and wood smoke. It took me a further second of disorientation to notice Cinder's body heat on my shoulder and across my back, and how the discreetly black choker, nicely complemented the pale curve of her throat.

"I was wondering if this passage would be useful for Professor Port's essay regarding Grimm hierarchy and social structure. What do you think, Wilson?"

Black hair tickled my cheek, and light fingers brushed my arm as I bent closer to look at the paragraph in question.

"I think that Grimm arranges themselves into an army, more than anything else. However, depending on your thesis statement, you could use the passage here to evidence that a Matriarchy leads the Grimm. Centred on a queen, or several queens, leading the horde, an attractive proposition."

"You think so? Thank you! I was worried that my thesis would be too far-fetched. What a load off my mind!"

Happily, Cinder reached over and hugged me; too long to be merely friendly, and not long enough for me to fully appreciate the strength that Cinder's slender appearance belied. With a lingering touch and a sly smile, Cinder stepped past me and disappeared amidst the library's shelves with a slight sway of her hips, followed by the scent of charcoal and strawberries in her wake.

* * *

"Interesting," General Ironwood finally said. "Is this the same with her teammates?"

* * *

Did it feel good, huh punk?" Emerald snarled as she slammed me against the wall, her sickles pressed against my throat. "Did it feel good when Cinder hugged you? Made you all hot and bothered? You pervert?!"

I wearily sighed as I pushed the sickle aside, and away from my neck before cocking my eyebrow at the chocolate-tone huntress's outburst before saying.

"Good evening, Emerald. If you wanted help with your essay, all you had to do was ask."

* * *

And the hunter named Mercury?" General Ironwood queried.

* * *

"Mercury!" I snapped, "Could you stop cackling like a mad jackal and do something about your crazy teammate?"

* * *

Interesting."

I snorted. "Verily."

At last, General Ironwood nodded and stood up from his chair behind the steel desk. He then folded his arms behind the back of his customary, white coat, and stood staring at the view afforded through the massive window which comprised an entire length of his office aboard his airship.

"Wilson," General Ironwood began with great difficulty, "I shall get to the point; Cinder and her friends are not hunters-in-training. In fact, they might be something far more sinister than they appear."

I looked up in shock.

"You're telling me now? I knew long ago."

Now it was the General's turn to be surprised as I padded over the carpeting to stand next to him before the vista beyond the glass.

"I wasn't sure about the 'sinister' thing, but when the average hunters-in-training in Beacon moves with all the grace of buffalo mating in a swamp, and consider food fights an acceptable hobby. It was all pretty obvious from the start. Cinder and her team move with the weight of experience, the kind you can only get with pain and blood. Furthermore, Cinder looks way too old to be a teenager of seventeen years."

General Ironwood coughed before continuing.

"Quite so; Ozpin, and by extension, myself, have been looking into Cinder and her compatriots ever since she set foot into Beacon Academy. So far, all we found had been rumors and gossip, nothing of either material weight, or incriminating to any degree. Now, while Ozpin has decided to shift his priorities elsewhere, I have a hunch that Cinder Fall is the key to the two incidents the both of us were involved in, both at the Airship Terminal, the conflagration that started on your arrival in Vale, and many others besides. Tell me, Wilson; have you been keeping up with current events in Vale?"

"Reasonably," I replied with less confidence than I could have mustered, "violent attacks, Faunus and Human incidents throughout the city, a man wearing a bowler hat while robbing dust stores." I turned my skepticism onto the General, "you suspect Cinder is involved?"

"And I have had no way to confirm those suspicions, until today."

I laughed.

"Let me guess; me? Undercover? The world's fattest spy with the fucking inconspicuous pink eyes?"

The General turned to face me and placed his hands on my shoulders.

"Your appearance is unconventional. However, you have certain advantages that keep the odds even; your skills, my support, and the trust Cinder have in you."

I winced as the General's hands tightened on my shoulders.

"She does trust you, to an extent, yes?"

* * *

"Oh, Wilson ~."

I looked up from where I was reclining on the dorm's bed, and my compilation of Highfields; the lazy cat comic strips before directing my curiosity, and attention, to Cinder standing, perfectly framed in the doorway, with a cheerfully sly smile on her face.

"Wilson, I've been thinking …"

"Please don't, it'll ruin your complexion, working yourself too hard."

Cinder's laughter was as false as it was loud, which was why I decided to cut the jokes and listen quietly.

"As I was saying, I have been thinking, and just came to a decision. The fight with the Beringal, and your aid in proving Emerald innocence have shown that you are a resourceful, and capable person. Which is why I would like to offer you a business opportunity as a reward."

Cinder then tossed me a card, with an address and a time written on it.

"Don't be late, Mr. Pink. For some people, time is a luxury one must kill to keep."

* * *

I would say she trusts my fight or flight reflexes. However, I merely said 'Yes, she does.' In reply to the General's question.

"And now you see why I have to depend on you; you are the one best suited to navigate this mystery and discover the truth of Cinder's allegiance. In fact, I believe I am not exaggerating, by saying that lives depend on your acceptance of this duty."

Ooh. That's a good line. Clichéd, but still a classic.

"General, I appreciate the vote of confidence. However, there are practical considerations to account."

Respectfully shrugging his hands off my shoulders, I began to pace as I continued.

"Firstly; I will need backup, someone to watch my back if I'm going to do this undercover thing."

"Fair point," General Ironwood conceded, "and I believe as good a time as any to introduce you to your partner."

The main doors to the General's quarters hissed open, allowing a pair of faded boots to scuff the carpet. Silver spurs ringing with every step. Both the General and I turned to regard the attractively dirty blonde who had stepped straight out of a western on the telly and was now happily looking me over with twinkling blue eyes. Asymmetrically framed by hair the color, and texture of whiskey, hidden beneath the brim of a cowboy hat.

"Well, aren't you adorable? All fluffy and soft, like a ram in need of a good shear."

I blushed and slightly angled my belly aside as General Ironwood introduced us.

"Lei, Wilson Pink. Wilson, Lee Ann Lei; A.K.A Hurricane Coyote. Daughter of Whip Coyote, and younger sister of Marked Coyote."

"Hey! A pleasure to be working with you, partner."

I took the gloved hand in mine, barely returning Coyote's handshake. At the same time, I caught a glimpse of what the cowgirl hid beneath a tan poncho; an equally brown suit, draped over a blue shirt which was in turn crumpled by the four holsters crossing the flare of her hips and over a small, but powerful, chest.

"Lei will be your liaison, and she will be the one to extract you if necessary." General Ironwood said, concluding the introduction.

"S'Right," Coyote said, "I'll have your back no matter where you go. Your shadow-like, where you are, I'll be. On my honor, and the blessing of the Coyote, you will never walk alone. And you'll never notice that I'm there."

She's right; I won't notice her. I will see her, just as anyone who isn't blind or retarded will. Oh God, but that face! Who could be mean to that face?

"Alright, that's backup sorted. But what about a disguise? I hope you're not expecting me to tie on a mask, and show up in a suit?"

By way of a reply, General Ironwood turned to Coyote, and they both shared a laugh before he said.

"Don't worry, Wilson. We have a few ideas, and we will have you kitted out appropriately."

* * *

"Hmph. The mask is a nice touch, and I like the cut of your suit. But if you're going to be running with Roman Torchwick tonight, you're going to need a bigger deposit to play with the big boys. If you get what I mean?"

The warehouse was damp, the crate I was sitting on itched through the seat of my trousers, and I was more than annoyed at the whole situation. So I answered by slowly reaching around my back and slipped my Tomahawk out from its holster. I then ejected both the weapon's clip and the chambered bullet, before placing the gun handle first on the makeshift table before me. I did the same with my Hatchet, before locking my gaze through the black fabric, concealing the upper half on my face, with Roman's green eyes.

"I will give you three reasons instead, why you should let me run with you tonight; an extra pair of guns, and because Cinder sent me here, and that she would likely kill the both of us if we disobey her wishes."

Roman Torchwick looked across at me over the crossed toes of his boots.

"That's two reasons, not three."

"It's Cinder we're talking about," I replied.

"Fair point, alright kid, you can tag along. But I will not accept any responsibility for any injuries you might suffer over the course of this night, alright?"

I was about to say the same thing. Instead, I only smiled tightly and reloaded my guns.

* * *

Dear readers

As I begin writing the twelfth chapter of Scions of Magic, I would like to ask readers to leave a review, if possible so that I may continue to improve this story and ensure that I am consistent as the tale unfolds. Any little criticism or advice will be greatly appreciated, and be used to write future chapters and stories better.

Thank you.


	13. Chapter 13

"So, William, was it? Tell me a little about yourself."

Surprisingly, I managed to remember my false name, and subsequently was able to reply promptly enough to make the name stick.

"Once, I was in the military. Then I was broke before Cinder offered me this job. And now here we are, sharing an exquisitely stocked drinks cabinet. This sparkling water is excellent; you are truly a man of culture, Mr. Torchwick."

Roman Torchwick chuckled as he crossed his legs and threw his arms across the back of the limos wide seat.

"Any man who recognizes the finer things in life gets to call me Roman, Will."

"If it's all the same to you, I rather call you, boss."

Roman's well-built and angular expression, half-hidden beneath a fringe of bright orange hair, brightened into one of happy surprise.

"Well! Finally! Someone who knows how to show proper respect around here. It's just like I told you, Neo. This one, he's different, compared to Cinder and her kids."

Sipping my drink, I regarded the other occupant in the vehicle's backseat over the rim of my glass. She was a girl with pink and brown, two-toned hair. Just like the girl who bumped into me at the terminal, just before Argyle tried to kidnap General Ironwood.

Fucking Argyle.

With a silent grin rivaling the Cheshire cat's, and a minute shifting of pale skin beneath a white jacket, Neo reached up and patted Roman's shoulder in mocking congratulations. Before handing a glass over to the taller man.

"Goddamn it, Neo!" Roman spat, "How many times have I told you; don't water the Bourbon!"

Neo reached up and lightly karate chopped Roman on his head.

"Yeah, yeah. No drinking on the clock." Roman sighed as he grabbed Neo's hand, pulled her into his lap, and began to tickle her shapely ribs, accentuated by a brown corset, gently. "What are you, my mom?"

"Is she, boss?"

"No." Roman laughed, as Neo plucked the hat off her partner's orange hair, and began to fiddle with it, "But I do think, at times, that Neo is my guardian spirit. Like one of those 'Zashiki-Warashi' from Kuroyuri traditions. I swear, without her, I wouldn't be where I am today."

Huh. I thought as I looked at Neo through the black blindfold that doubled as my mask, and a moment of understanding passed between us. A sly wink, and a slight curve of my lip, between one Covenant user and another.

"How poetic," I remarked. "Truly, a man whose knowledge is as deep as it is wide."

"And you served as a medic in the army, yeah?" Roman asked in return.

Was this supposed to be a secret? Wasn't my past meant to be wiped from the public records? I can't recall. And in any case, why do I even bother?

"Don't be so surprised, Will. You smell of drugs and meds. Besides, I had a friend who was a doctor, patched me up countless times back in the day. Which is why I can recognize medical professionals when I see them."

"Interesting," I said, taking a sip to hide my relief, before changing the subject.

"In any case, what's this job about?"

Roman sighed, popped the joints in his neck, and finished his drink. Neo, meanwhile, placed Roman's hat back onto his head before scooting over and plucking up a parasol resting in a small stand set by the door to the right of my seat. Adjusting his coat and tightening his gloves, Roman then reached out and unlatched the vehicle's door on my left, before saying.

"You're about to find out. It's time."

I followed Roman and Neo out of the car. A familiar alleyway, the same pungent smell of piss, but spacious enough to accommodate a luxury car with space to spare. Stepping closer to the wall, I drew my Tomahawk and ran through its operational checks. A minute later, the limo's engine started and began to reverse. It's matte-grey finish slowly blending with the ambient shadows of the alley before disappearing from view.

I turned towards the mouth of the alley just in time to see a truck barrel past.

I dropped into a crouch as the crack of a violent collision roared through the alley around Roman, Neo, and me.

"Clear the front," Roman ordered as he snatched up a black cane and marched out with Neo at his heels, high boots clicking across the road. "Leave the rest to me."

Bringing the Tomahawk to bear, I loped silently out into the street as the war cries broke the stillness of the night. And pursed my lips in annoyance at the White Fang, wearing white masks over their eyes, and with snarls of bloodlust tight on their exposed jaws. Who came swarming out from the shopfronts, and the alleyways, which made up both sides of the street.

Despite the cacophony and lack of discipline, the flanking of the disabled convoy of a long truck and several jeeps, all blocked off at the front by a rubbish truck, was accomplished with deft efficiency. So I left the maddened throng to deal with the guards, while I followed Roman's orders and headed towards the truck hauling the container that was apparently the target of this ambush.

A guard staggered out, clutching at her head as her feet hit the concrete, and her shoulder smacked into the side of the truck cab. I was halfway towards the guard when she looked up and reached for her weapon.

My elbow was jammed up against her neck and chest before she could shout. My left hand pinned her weapon in its holster. And the leftward shift of my hips slammed a head of ginger hair into solid steel before a left elbow put that head out cold on the concrete ground.

Leading with the Tomahawk, I clambered into the cab and came face-to-face with a Faunus guard who had blood streaming down his tusk-distorted maw.

"You going to reach?" I asked.

The guard leaned back and raised his hands.

"Good choice. Go. Keep your head down, and you might make it home alive."

"What about my partner?"

"You can grab her if you want, but if you join the fight with her? No words. Just brass rounds."

The guard shrugged and snatched his cap off his head.

"She was a Faunus hating bitch-noodle anyway."

Once the cab was empty, I slipped my ring over my finger and reached a hand out to the truck's dashboard. A slight burst of power was enough to render the vehicle inoperable, and for the smoke to roar as I clambered out onto the street again.

"Will! Get over here!"

The ambush succeeded, and the truck was near empty as the fighting died down, and I walked up to Roman. The criminal was standing by the rear of the gutted container, amidst a moving loop of bodies lifting crates from the bigger truck onto the smaller, non-descript, delivery vans.

"How much longer?" Roman asked.

"A few more minutes, sir." The White Fang grunt reported, "Most of the crates are strapped onto the vans already, just waiting for your order to move out."

"Good, let's finish the job."

"No worries," The grunt happily replied, and got carried away, "tonight's heist was easy enough."

Seriously?

Roman's face met his palm while Neo stepped over and started whipping the grunt furiously with her parasol.

"Seriously."

"THIS IS THE POLICE! WE HAVE YOU IN OUR SIGHTS! PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND SURRENDER NOW!"

Together, Roman and I looked up into the glare of the searchlight. Simultaneously raising our hands, and standing against the wash of the transport's rotors as the White Fang grunts either scattered to the vehicles or opened fire with an assortment of weapons before dispersing into the alleys and shopfronts.

And in the midst of the bullets, orders, and the police bellowing their demands of immediate surrender. Roman, Neo, and I took a moment to look at one another.

We then turned as one to glare at the grunt who jinxed the entire thing in the first place, who stepped back and sheepishly raised his hands.

"Yeah. I got carried away. My bad."


	14. Chapter 14

"Hey, boss," I asked Roman as the Police airship got closer to where we stood with our hands up. "We're not surrendering, are we?"

Roman glanced at me, rolled his eye, and leveled his cane at the transport.

"Ooh! Your cane has a front sight! How adorable!"

It wasn't cute once Roman fired the weapon.

"Ok," I admitted as the ringing in my ears, caused by the grenade from Roman's cane, began to fade. "That was pretty cool."

"SHOTS FIRED! AIR 1 IS DOWN! GET BACKUP ON OUR LOCATION NOW!"

"You!" Roman barked at the White Fang grunt, "Get your shit together, and those crates back to the warehouse! Lose one of them …!"

The grunt nodded once and scurried away into the chaos, roaring orders and, quite literally, kicking the other White Fang into gear. Within seconds, the Faunus response to the police forced the two other airships present, besides Air 1, to retreat. Combined with the destructive results of Roman's grenade cane (smoke, broken windows, and a transport forced into an emergency landing), the White Fang was able to begin pulling out of the immediate area with their vans, and their prize.

Meanwhile, Roman turned to Neo and said.

"Contingency plan, go!"

Before I could ask, Neo hugged me. And then the world shattered into a million glass shards before my eyes. Standing in space, Neo and I were cast adrift amongst an endless expanse of stars, before being swept up in a whirlwind of glass which pieced itself together as my feet acquired terra firma once again.

I stumbled as Roman staggered past me and crumbled to his knees. He was back on his feet before long, refusing my offered hand, and instead using his cane to push himself up.

"Thank you, Will." Roman gasped, "Just could never get used to Neo teleporting. Just, give me a moment, will you?"

"Well boss, I would," I began before gesturing towards Roman's left, "But I don't think they have a minute to spare."

Together, the three of us stood and regarded the arrival of another four Police Airships. Reinforcing the previous two, no more than a couple of blocks away. With the increased police presence, one of the ships was beginning to veer away from the pack, and turning its nose towards the rooftop the three of us were standing on.

"Maybe they haven't seen us?" I volunteered. Just as the searchlights attached to the carriage attached beneath the oblong engines were switched on, and began sweeping the rooftops before ours.

Walking forward, Roman snatched up his cane and nodded to himself, apparently having come to some decision.

"Good, good. This situation could work to our advantage!" Roman delightfully cried out as he jogged over and began looking over the rooftops to his left.

"Ok. Alright. Look, over there is Wales Street, right?"

I murmured in assent as I walked up to Roman and followed his directions. Neo did the same, standing on Roman's right.

"If we can draw those ships towards Wales Street, we might be able to distract the cops long enough for the White Fangs to get clear. We could then take a hop across to Kingston Road, before going to ground at Monty Avenue. I have a few places where we could wait for the heat to cool out."

Neo was nodding in vigorous assent to Roman's proposal. I nodded because I didn't have any better ideas.

"Excellent, let's move guys, those ships are getting closer, and we need to -!"

For a quiet moment, I thought Roman's plan required that we commit sexual intercourse with him because the airships are getting closer. Instinct, instead, drew my tomahawk from its holster and tracked the direction from which the shot that disabled Roman came. Intuition also lent me the speed I needed to acquire my targets in the space of the shot's echo. Furthermore, the entire sequence of events passed too fast for me to recall what happened the last time I drew on reflex.

"Goddamn it!" I screamed as something tore my tomahawk from my hands, and the resulting pieces scattered across the rooftop. Cursing, I threw my shoulder forward as a blade raked up towards my face. The movement's momentum further pulled my left leg along, and away, from the swipe of a second sword at my thigh. I then reversed my impetus forward and bobbed left as a third stroke whistled above my head, which allowed me to open my hips and snap a right roundhouse toe-kick into the swordsman's ribs.

"Gahhh!" I sputtered, dragging my throbbing foot along as I hobbled away from the swinging swords. "Are you made of steel!?"

"A titanium-based alloy used in most combat droid models in and around Remnant today," the feminine voice replied without a break in her assault, "strength, without the dead weight."

I filed that fact away while simultaneously scuttling back, and away from the blazing of the girl's relentless steel. Until an unexpected flourish of a left-hand sword triggered an old memory and my body reacted accordingly. Pushing my arms forward into a canted wedge, I stepped out to my right, and into the storm front of the keening steel and deflected a slashing blow. The weave of my suit sleeve turning the blade aside as arm met sword.

Breaking the girl's charge against the oblique edge of my stance, I trapped the girl's extended left arm against the cross of my hands. Stopping her from following her thrust up with a backhand swing, and exposing her flank. The girl immediately shoved her hips back in response to her vulnerability, which gave my front toe-kick unimpeded access to the sword in her right hand. Something gave way to the steel toe of my shoe, and the weapon clattered to the ground as I followed through the kick, roared, and shoved the girl back.

She didn't go over the rooftop's edge, thank God. But she got close enough before she dug her heels in, inches before going over. The girl then swept her remaining blade into another full circle before dropping into a crouch, with her right hand high and tucked close beside her cheek. Classic fencing, with a brawler's touch.

"Angela?" I asked incredulously.

The girl, in response, straightened up and bowed before saying.

"I'm afraid you're quite mistaken, criminal." She intoned in a cheerful, but mechanically formal way, "My name is Penny Poledina, and I am delighted to make your acquaintance!"

Of course, it's not Angela. Idiot. The last time I saw her, she was missing the top half of her head. Furthermore, Angela was a brunette; Penny is ginger.

"I apologize, Ms. Poledina. It's just that your stance, and your fighting style, reminded me of an old friend of mine. If I may ask, who taught you swordplay?"

"You are mistaken," Penny politely replied, "this was one of the many fighting styles programmed into me. It is purely coincidental that it belonged to a friend of yours."

"Programmed?"

"Long story," Penny admitted as she nervously picked at her green dress.

"Ah! I understand. I apologize for prying. I helped develop that style you see, together with that friend of mine, and I had never expected to see it again."

"Oh? Why not?"

"She's dead."

"Oh dear, I am sorry for your loss!" Penny exclaimed, "If you wish, I could switch to a different style before we continue our battle?"

"No, please, don't trouble yourself. It is nice to see my friend's technique in action again. She was very close to me, and seeing you fight like her is like seeing her in the flesh again."

Penny smiled and bowed in response.

"Very well, then I will continue using this style of combat. Shall we resume?"

I saluted Penny and matched her bow with one of my own before settling my weight, standing so that my skeleton kept me upright, instead of muscular tension.

Penny assumed Angela's stance again; sword held low, sweeping the ground while her right hand covered her cheek and jaw. Then the brilliance in her green eyes faded, and we charged.

Once again my arms formed the oblique wedge as we closed. And as Penny's blade flickered up towards my throat, the wedge blended with the thrust's energy before trapping Penny's hand mid-stroke and stopping the girl dead in her tracks as Penny's force was grounded through my bones and thrown back through hers. Breaking the internal integrity of her structure, although her external form was seemingly unaffected.

Caught flat-footed, Penny lost her momentum, allowing me to step around to her left and turn her arm aside. My hands then cut across Penny's elbow in a scissoring motion, before reversing Penny's sword back through her jaw and out the back of her neck just as something punched me in the gut.

Oh. Shit.

Oh shit, oh shit!

Oh, Jesus, Mother Mary, and Joseph I'm a murderer!

"Oh dear," Penny slurred as she staggered backward, while bits of machinery and oil splattered down her wound. "That's going to leave a scratch. Most impressive."

Wait, she's a robot? Oh, thank the Lord!

"This was not supposed to happen; the combat simulation was wrong. But the simulations are never wrong. Please, before my system shuts down," Penny asked in quiet desperation as she teetered on the rooftop's edge. "Could you tell me your name?"

"I'm no one of consequence. Don't worry your head about it."

"Oh! Haha! You're referring to the damage done to my head! I get it!"

And as the injury finally caught up to whatever system made up Penny's mind, the android toppled over the edge of the roof just as the world before me shattered, once again, into a million glass shards.

* * *

"AHHH! Neo! I'm going to die! Everything is going black!"

I swooned a little as Neo's teleportation dropped me into a warehouse of sorts. However, it was Roman's screaming that caught my attention, and what propelled me onward instead of finding somewhere to sit down.

"You," I said, slapping my hand onto a White Fang's shoulder, "get me a first aid kit."

I grabbed the attention of another grunt and ordered two basins of water, one boiling, before wiping my hands in disgust on the lapels of my suit and pushing through the crowd of bodies surrounding the screaming Roman.

"Move please!" I shouted above the nervous, clamoring confusion, "Go do what you need to do, leave me room to work, please."

Finally, I managed to shoulder my way through to where Roman had been laid out on a pair of crates, draped with a black flag of sorts. At the same time, Neo appeared with a basin of cold water, judging from the lack of steam.

Stripping off the suit jacket and rolling up the shirt sleeves, I dipped my hands into the basin and rubbed the cold liquid over my forearms before walking over to Roman's side.

"You ok, boss?"

"I got shot! What do you think?!"

Airway clear, conscious, but with skin paler than the norm. There wasn't any blood visible through Roman's white coat, so I moved to check his legs.

"Boss, you weren't shot."

"What?" Roman sat up from his swoon and started to pat himself down.

"But, the gunshot …?"

I was confused too until I felt someone tugging at my shirt.

"Neo? What?" And then I noticed what was missing, "Where's your parasol?"

Neo looked up at me with her mismatched, pink and brown eyes and raised her hands.

"Sorry, I don't understand sign language."

"She said a cowgirl shot her parasol out of her hands." Roman translated from where he lay on the crates, "And that I dropped like a pus … Hey!"

I groaned. I was too tired for this bullshit.

"So, no one was shot then? Everyone is ok?"

"Well, no …?" Roman said as Neo pointed at the burgeoning bloodstain spreading across the front of my shirt.

"I meant anyone who can't heal rapidly from injuries."

And that was when my legs gave out, and someone went and turned off the lights.


	15. B-Roll (2) Review

3\. 2. 1.

"Good evening! My name is Wilson Pink!"

"And I'm Mercury Black, and tonight we are going to review a movie!"

"Now, tonight's episode is quite special, isn't it Mercury?"

"Indeed it is, this is because; firstly, our movie tonight is a classic film. One the both of us have been looking forward to doing for a while now. Secondly, we have a guest joining us for tonight's episode. Allow me to introduce the charming, and cunning; Emerald Sustrai."

"Hey, Pink? Is this movie the one where the chosen one, who is a boy wizard, goes on a journey through a cupboard, to destroy a ring, in space?"

" … Emerald, get out."

 _We are currently experiencing technical difficulties._

"Tonight's guest, my friends, is …"

"Hi! I'm Coco Adel, and I am so excited to be sharing with you this new line of corsets that … What? We're reviewing a movie?! Well, thanks for wasting my time here guys!"

 _More technical difficulties._

"No! Cinder. Mercury and I are not going to review 'Bridesmaids'!"

 _For crying out loud._

" … And that concludes tonight's review of the 'Princess Bride.' What did you think about the movie Mercury?"

"The action is solid, and the acting is passionate, if simplistic. However, that simplicity is, I believe, its greatest strength. And is the reason why this movie is still a classic today. But let's get our guest's view on the movie. Zwei, what did you think about the film?"

Panting, the grey and white Corgi bounced onto Mercury's chest, barked twice, and began to lick his face.

"You're right," I chuckled, "it was pretty damn good after all."


	16. B-Roll (3) We're getting a band together

"Children, we're getting a rock band together."

I looked up at Cinder, the very picture of excitement, framed by the doorway of our shared room (nothing will ever go wrong there…).

"Cinder, do you remember the last time you sniffed diesel oil?"

I caught the arrow just before it hit my eye.

"As I was saying," Cinder continued tightly, stowing her bow away, "I have just been looking up band jobs, and I think, with proper management and a good plan, a band could be an excellent source of money for our plans."

Mercury raised his hand from the video game he was playing.

"Why don't we get part-time jobs?"

"Oh, please. Standing behind a counter is beneath all of us. I mean seriously, Mercury, could you imagine someone like me serving burgers behind a counter?"

Mercury looked at me, and I looked at Emerald, before glancing over at the roll of toilet paper standing by my bedside table.

"On second thought," Cinder cut in before I could reply, "don't answer that. Now listen up."

Striding into the room, Cinder walked over to the construction paper tacked onto an aluminum stand. She then pulled out a marker and scribbled a few notes onto the paper.

"We are going to need instruments, costumes, and a band name. Emerald, you will be on the piano."

"I won't let you down Cinder!"

"You'd better not," Cinder sweetly said. "Mercury, you're on bass guitar."

Mercury's thumbs up was as succinct a reply as any.

"And Wilson."

"Vocalist?" I asked hopefully.

I flinched as a pile of papers were thrown onto my chest.

"Costumes, and you will need to come up with a band name."

Emerald cheerfully cackled as I thumbed through the sheaf of handwritten notes.

"You know, Cinder, I can sing. I was in a choir for four years."

"I know," Cinder replied, "But I already have a vocalist in mind."

Cinder clapped her hands, and through the door stepped Roman Torchwick. The infamous, fabulous, wanted in all Four Kingdoms and the tenth most dangerous criminal of the city of Vale, the Duchy of Vacuo, and various other settlements between the two, Roman Torchwick.

"Oh, you did not think this through."

"Shut up, Wilson!" Roman snapped, "I'll have you know that I'm a classically trained singer, and have been a vocal coach for a time. That was, of course, before my more lucrative criminal career."

"Roman," Cinder said, "perhaps you could give us a demonstration of your musical talents? To silence the detractors, if you will."

"Of course, Neo, give me a note."

Standing beside the taller criminal, the petite waif with two-toned, pink and chocolate hair pulled out a pitch pipe and blew into it.

"Ladies, and Gentlemen, for your listening pleasure; Mozart's Figaro."

* * *

"Alright, maybe I did make a mistake regarding the choice of vocalist."

"Heathens! Roman jeered, "None of you can appreciate true music!"

"However, I have come up with a suitable replacement. Neo!"

The perpetually quiet girl with the lacy parasol jumped up and began hopping around in mute excitement.

"And since the band will be me, Mercury, Emerald, and Neo. I think we should call our band; C-MEN."

As one, Roman and I clapped our hands together and brought to our lips, as if saying a prayer. We then inhaled and exhaled harshly.

"Yeah. Why the hell not?"


	17. Chapter 15

Her name was Angela Briar.

And true to her name, she was a brunette picture of divine perfection; aloof and tall, possessed of a physique of epic proportions, and commanding a flair for tactics and command. Charismatically influential, charging into battle with her flowing, shimmering locks of the color of the Northern nights, Angela had the all three of the traits a revolutionary leader needed.

She was also a stark raving lunatic, and I knew from the moment I met her that she would have to be put down like a rabid animal sooner or later. What I didn't realize was that I would be the one to do it.

In hindsight, I should have seen the signs. The bloodlust in Briar's war cries, her preference for conflict over diplomacy, the ridiculous kilt flying up around her massive thighs. Shit, all you had to do was look into those dead, golden eyes of her.

Hold on a minute; Cinder is the one with golden eyes.

I shot up, and out, from the grasp of unconscious memory and nearly cracked Cinder's nose as I sat up in bed. My hand whipped out and grabbed Cinder's own just before she flinched back and toppled off the edge of the frame.

"Wilson," Cinder crooned, "Roman told me you were dead."

"Outlandish rumors," I replied with a grin, "I have no idea what could kill me. And besides, you sent me to Torchwick trusting in my ability to survive; I can't die and have people doubting your judgment in others."

Cinder laughed.

"How considerate! I never knew you cared so much about my image."

"Not like it is necessary though, your image is striking all on its own already."

"Flatterer," Cinder smiled in response, "And you can let go of my hand now."

"But it is such a lovely hand!" I added, "You must tell me your moisturizing regime!"

"Alright," Cinder finally said as she dragged her hand out of my grasp, "now you're just an ass. Come on out when you're ready, we have a few things to discuss."

Snorting, I threw the white quilt aside and reached for the black blindfold, resting on the side-table set beside the bed.

"And I don't think you'll need the mask," Cinder threw over her shoulder as she exited the room

* * *

"Holy shit, you're alive! I would thank God, but I'm an atheist. So instead, I'll offer your breakfast. Christ almighty, you fucking deserve it."

I rolled my eyes at Roman as I entered the cozy kitchenette.

"Come on; I just got shot. It couldn't have been that dramatic."

"I have here a list of what it cost me to keep you alive after you collapsed two nights ago."

Two nights?!

"6 bags of blood, two entire first-aid kits, three whole bottles of 1963 scotch, and an irate surgeon who swore that he would kill himself on the spot if he were to deal with the events of the past two days again. Not to mention the bonus that quack demanded at the end, and he wasn't cheap already."

Shit.

"I'm surprised you did not just throw me into the harbor."

"Fuck you, kid." Roman snapped as he lit a cigar, only to have it snatched away by a passing Neo. Balancing a plate of waffles with her hand. "We're criminals, not monsters. Besides, I would have to answer to Cinder if I did that."

As one, Roman and I turned to regard the raven-haired temptress sipping coffee at the plastic countertop. Her attention focused entirely on the issue of Cosmopolitan opened before her.

"I never want to have to answer to her."

Neither did I as that would only lead to someone dying. And I was confident it would just be me at a genuinely bloody expense on the part of anyone foolish enough to try.

"In any case, kid." Roman continued as Neo bustled over and slid a tureen of scrambled eggs onto the table. "Getting you back on your feet has cost me a lot of money, money which I intend to have you pay me back."

I sighed and rubbed my temples as I considered the extent of my credit as General Ironwood's aide.

"For what it's worth," I said at last, "I am sorry. Usually, I can heal from minor injuries such as this; I have no idea what came over me."

Reaching into the pocket of his trousers, Roman flicked a green bullet over to me across the only empty stretch of table unoccupied by Neo's culinary efforts.

"This, if the surgeon is correct. Most of the work was trying to extract this bloody thing out of your gut, followed by replacing the blood loss and keeping you alive until your body started repairing itself, once the bullet was out. That was a pretty neat trick though; if you can teach it to me, I'll consider the medical expenses as tuition fees."

A bullet that could stop my healing ability, that is troubling. I thought as I pocketed the errant projectile.

"I can't. You're …"

"What? Not good enough?"

"A heathen."

"Now, boys," Cinder finally said as she took her seat at the table, "let's leave the theology until after breakfast."

Snorting, Roman took off his gloves as Neo draped her pink apron onto a hook by the kitchenette's door, and began to load a plate.

"Do you usually cook this much?" I asked as Neo handed the full plate over to me, "seems a tad excessive, even for breakfast."

"We do when Cinder shows up around the hideout," Roman replied, "see for yourself."

I looked towards where Cinder was seating, enthusiastically loading her plate to the joy of an appreciative, pink-and-brown haired chef. Impressive.

"In any case, Roman. Have you put any thought towards Wilson's future with you?"

Roman shifted around in his seat to look at me, carefully putting down a forkful of eggs to avoid messing up his red-dye shirt. I replied with as toothy a grin as I could muster.

"Just so we're clear, Cinder. You want me to give the kid a job, right?"

"No, Roman." Cinder calmly said as she quartered a waffle, "I want you to get your ass in gear and get me the supplies I need; dust, and the like, and sometime before the next decade. However, you have been complaining to me about how the lack of human resources, both in quality and quantity, is stopping you from accomplishing my requests."

Commands, I would think. Judging from the steely emphasis on the word and Roman's slight paling around his sharp cheekbones, and the minute tensing in his hard jaw.

"Therefore, I am giving Wilson here to you. To solve your human resources issue, and allow me to keep track of things while remaining undercover in Beacon. Just so you are clear."

"Which is something I've meant to ask you about Cinder," Roman cut in with a raised hand, "I get you need to infiltrate Beacon for some sneaky reason, but why disguise yourselves as students? Why are you wasting time on something so trivial?"

I swear, by all that is Holy to the Covenant, the temperature in the kitchenette soared by several degrees. Followed by my lips, and something fragile in the room, cracking as Cinder's eyes flared yellow and locked calmly onto Roman's death-pale expression.

I leaned back in my chair and reached out for the Covenant.

There is practically no difference in the principles that a Covenantee to the Covenant, and a third-party outside of the agreement, must physically abide by to access the magic that is Aura. We both act as one half of a constant circuit of symbiotic, primal power; taking in the raw Aura that is the lifeblood of Remnant, processing it within oneself, and then feeding it back into the world at large.

The only difference is that I can SEE the process as it occurs.

And as I entered the Web of the Covenant, I thought for a moment that I was back in the deserts of Vacuo, during a training exercise with the 'Sand Worms' unit of Vacuo's State Defence Force's, or the VSDF, Recon Trackers. Back in the grasp of that furious heat, radiating of the fiery red rock as it scoured every inch of skin dry of moisture, emanating as a radiant golden glare from where Cinder sat. And reheating the tureen of eggs with only the residual energy of her outrage at some perceived slight on Roman's part.

Through the threads of the Web, I could conceive the battle playing out on a plane beyond the visual. Through the sixth sense, I could see the flames of Cinder's power surging through the Web, licking out and devouring the 'territory' that comprised of the orange-toned strands colored by Roman's aura.

But seeing it is one thing, defusing the tension safely between Cinder and Roman was another.

Reaching for the conflagration through the strands of the web, I first reinforced Roman's aura with my own before expanding the blended atmospheres outwards. Forming the magical equivalent of a fire-break by binding the threads into chokepoints through which I channeled Cinder's fury, and then used the blending of mine and Roman's auras to harmonize with the golden fury, allowing me to turn the fire's appetite back finally onto itself.

Presently, both the ambient temperature and Roman's breathing settled down. And while Roman sweated it out, Cinder cleared her throat and looked over at me from the head of the table. Simultaneously placing, and clasping, her hands before her on the table's surface.

"Wilson. Do you have anything you'd like to add?"

"Well, Cinder," I said, as I pushed my plate aside. "I think it would help the team effort if you'd let us know your intentions regarding Beacon, and your 'secret mission', as it were."

I continued as I turned and glanced over at a wide-eyed Neo.

"It would suck if our plans fail because of a lack of communication between all parties, I think."

"That's … A good point."

Oh. That worked out well.

"Understand this, the success of my plan only depends on each of you carrying out your parts as detailed before. There is a weapon, hidden deep in Beacon Academy that only I can use, and the only way I can find that weapon is to go undercover. All of you are here to help me reach that weapon, and I will do the rest. Roman, you have been paid in advance and promised more at the successful conclusion of this venture. I ask you now as a courtesy, and as thanks for helping Wilson; would you like to re-negotiate the terms of our current agreement?"

Roman declined. As generously as a man could wearing a rumpled shirt and sweat-stained arms.

"Excellent. We should go now, Wilson. We have prior engagements."

I was halfway out of my chair when Roman said, "wait." Before standing, walking over to a drawer, and tossing me the phone, he fished out.

"William is a fair alias, but get a better disguise next time."

* * *

"Be honest with me Wilson, did I act appropriately earlier?"

I considered the breakfast muffin in my hands for a moment before replying.

"I don't think that matters now; you acted in the heat of the moment, and the only thing that got damaged was glass and Roman's pride. That's a result I can live with."

Cinder wrapped the remains of her roll back in its wrapper, cradling the package in her hands while remarking.

"Is that how you see things, then? I never pegged you for an optimist."

"Hardly," I shot back, "but worrying too much is just as bad as not worrying at all. What you should be asking is whether the result of your actions is one that YOU can live with."

"And how has that worked out for you?"

I thought of Angela, and the missing top half of her skull, oozing blood onto my hands.

"I wouldn't know," I answered, grinning, "I have never had a result that I could live with."

Cinder glanced down at my expression and laughed.

"May I ask you a question, Wilson?"

"Only if I could ask you one in return."

Nodding, Cinder took a breath.

"Why are you working with me? Emerald and Mercury do so because they owe me their lives. Roman follows orders because his life was mine to own once I met his price. But you, Wilson, owe me nothing. Neither do I have anything to hold against you, to compel your service. You were free to walk away when Emerald fell under investigation for theft, and decline my job offer when presented; why didn't you?"

Finishing my muffin, I quartered the wrapper and folded it neatly into the paper bag the meal had come in.

"You remember what I said just now? The most important question for a Hunter being; can you live with the results of your actions? My teammate was called Angela Briar, looked a bit like you, Cinder. She died as a result of my actions. I'm still figuring out how to live with that."

"Well, that's ruined my appetite." Cinder noted.

Chuckling, I sat up and looked around for a trash bin. But from where we were sitting, on the edge of a fountain in the center of the park, the nearest can was out of the range of a throw. Neither could I be bothered to get up and walk.

"Now I have to ask; why are you undercover in Beacon as a student?"

"Simple. It was my mother's last wish."

I could only stare at Cinder then, as she got up and walked over to the nearest trashcan.


	18. Chapter 16

The war against the darkness has raged for centuries. But there have been heroes in Remnant's history for millennia.

Whether beast, Grimm, or each other. Humanity had fought wars before the concept. Each new battle brought new allies and raised the common man to proportions of epic myth.

The Hospitallers are no such men.

Their crossed pauldrons herald salvation for generations of warriors, and led others to the glory of champions, though they would be washed aside by the blood of history.

With steps of unflinching resolve and their Gladius, an answer to any who would challenge them.

Hospitallers. Glory above my station, to fight and raise others above myself.

"Oh, God! Move! I need to throw up!"

Some days, that glory does come at the expense of dignity.

* * *

"I cannot believe you would be this reckless!"

I nodded in response to Glynda's admonition.

"You go out into town for the weekend, get yourself shot, and failed to notify a teacher about your physical condition. Do you know how worried we were about your safety?"

Wow, that's touching.

"The paperwork involved in the death of a student …"

Go fucking fuck yourself, Glynda.

"Don't look so down Wilson," Cinder said from behind me, her hand on my shoulder, "we're glad you are ok."

I turned around to see the rest of my team looking back with varying degrees of 'glad'; Mercury had a grin and a thumbs up. Emerald's grin was smaller than Mercury's, and her hand was flat out, palm down and waggling.

"In any case, Wilson is safe and sound. And I am sure his punishment has been severe enough, so what say we leave it at that?"

"If only it were that simple, James. There had been a graded practical exam which Wilson had missed because of his impromptu absence, not to mention the classwork he would have missed …"

"I'm sure that Wilson's friends will help him catch up. And as for the exam, I'm sure Wilson could make up for it. If you like, I can discuss the details with Ozpin instead. And save you the extra work?"

Glynda sighed and lifted her glasses off her nose.

"No, no. You're right, James. It just so happens that I have to do a retest for a Trainee who failed the exam in question, I'll arrange it so that Wilson might take the test at the same time. And his team will no doubt help him catch up with any work missed."

General Ironwood smiled in sympathy and patted Glynda's hand, saying.

"Then that's settled. In which case, I insist on talking to Ozpin on your behalf regarding Wilson's absence and make-up exam. You look like you need a break. So if there is nothing else, we shall leave you to your business Glynda."

The General then turned to Cinder and her friends.

"That goes for you three, as well. I need to speak to Wilson for a bit. Won't take long."

Smiling, Cinder nodded respectfully to both the General, and Glynda, before turning and leading Emerald and Mercury out of Glynda's office. I moved to follow.

"Wilson," Glynda called as I was about to step out, "I am glad that you are alright. Take better care of yourself. Doing paperwork for a fallen student would leave a bitter taste in any teacher's throat."

I looked into Glynda's eyes and wondered if I should read her aura to see if she was sincere.

Instead, I smiled slightly and said, "Thank you. Ms. Goodwitch."

"It seems your mission was a success, Corporal Pink."

I allowed the silence of the deserted corridor to play for a moment before answering.

"That remains to be seen, Sir. However I have, I believe, earned some degree of Cinder's trust. And have a foothold into the organization of her associate, Roman Torchwick. Only time will vindicate what I have managed to achieve so far."

General Ironwood nodded as his boots struck the tiles, marking the beat of his parade-ground stride.

"Lei's plan succeeded then."

"What plan?"

"Yes, well you see," General Ironwood tried to begin, "I had intended to let you find your way into Cinder's graces. However, Lei suggested a brief skirmish would have made a better impression. So she tracked you, notified the police of the ongoing heist, and staged that ambush which led to your injury."

"Ah. So that Penny Poledina character was one of yours then?"

"Penny is more than just a character, Wilson." General Ironwood stated cooly, "She is a prototype combat android, undergoing trial experiments before actual deployment. A state-of-the-art combat android, by the by, equipped with the latest tactical artificial intelligence, which you destroyed in one-to-one combat."

"Well, I would apologize, Sir." I flatly replied, unbuttoning my jacket and lifting up my shirt, "But your toy got me as well, with quite a special bullet too. It has been a while since any shot smaller than a 50 caliber had been able to put me down for two nights in a row. So if it is all the same to you, I'll call that a draw. Sir."

General Ironwood stopped to look at the scar across my belly.

"How old are you this year, Wilson?"

"I will be 20 in a month's time. Guess I'm about old enough to eat my shots huh?"

"On the contrary, I think you are far too young to be involved in matters such as this." General Ironwood gently said, "duty demands too much of you. But I'm sure you will be able to rise to the occasion."

General Ironwood then turned and continued down the hall. I huffed with ironic amusement before following.

"In any case, Cinder's talk about a 'superweapon' hidden on the Academy grounds is a vital clue that must be followed up. Use your position in Cinder's group to discover what she believes, or knows about the weapon. Lei will follow up on the Dust heists Cinder has ordered this Torchwick fellow to carry out. I may have you coordinate with Lei on any leads she finds, but your mission is primarily Cinder. Do you understand, Corporal?"

So there is a weapon hidden somewhere in Beacon. The General would not prioritize a rumor over a substantial lead like Roman's dust heists. And as I saluted General Ironwood, before watching him walk on down the corridor, I felt the bullet which had incapacitated me poking me in the ribs through my uniform. I then considered the conversation's transcript, before recalling something Roman told me.

 _'Fuck you kid; we're criminals. Not monsters.'_

* * *

"Ugh. Shit! My gut hates me."

Patting the lanky, awkwardly blonde hunter across his back, I reached into one of my pouches and pulled out a vial.

"Drink. It will settle your stomach."

The hunter took the vial, popped the stopper, and drank.

"Ooh. Fuck ~"

The hunter then handed the vial back.

"Thanks that helped. Like your gear though, very stylish and slimming."

I shrugged my shoulders, snugly wrapped in the dark grey, padded, gambeson jacket. Before pointing a gauntlet-clad finger at the hunter.

"And you seem underdressed; metal armor over a black hoodie? You should invest in a jacket like mine at the least. And your jeans seem a bit too tight for combat."

"Well, it's worked out well so far." The hunter wryly said while massaging his belly. "Ah, Jesus. The acid always boils over just before a fight, that's fucking annoying."

"You should take your gear seriously. In this profession, you have to dress for the job you do, not the job you want."

The hunter suddenly turned and locked his baby blue eyes with my pink pair.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?" I asked in turn.

"Make jokes, offer others tasty antacids. Be so calm and cool before going into battle. How do you not be afraid?"

I stared back at the hunter for a weighty second.

"What's your name?"

"Arc. Jaune Arc."

"Right," I replied, "I'm Wilson Pink, how are you doing?"

I then moved closer and sat down beside Jaune, who eagerly scooted aside on the bench to give me some room.

"Ok. First things first; do you know what a 'Devil's Advocate' is?"

Jaune shook his head.

"A Devil's Advocate is an arbitrator, specializing in disputes related to Hunters, according to something called the 'Hunters Accords.' The rules, regulations, and code of ethical conduct for Hunters all across Remnant. But that's third-year stuff, so it's not important now."

Plucking at my, slightly baggy, trousers, I reached down and fiddled with my bootstraps for a moment while I marshaled my thoughts.

"As an Advocate, I deal primarily with people who kill monsters for a living, which is why combat is an extensive, and compulsory module in the training syllabus. What is not compulsory, however, is what you are doing now; the 'monster hunting' bit about being a Hunter. Here I am though; in a locker room, telling you my life story, and trying not to sound ridiculous in the process. Why do you think that is?"

"Is that meant to be rhetorical?"

"It is because while I was damn good at being an Advocate. Fighting was who I am; regardless if my opponent is man or Grimm, the excitement of battle was my purpose in life. And after Basic Hunter training, human opponents kind of lost their novelty."

"Wait, wait." Jaune finally cut in, "So you're telling me the reason you're not afraid is that you are an adrenaline junkie who gets off on fighting, and you can no longer get high with human opponents?"

I smacked Jaune across the head.

"No! Jesus! What I'm trying to say is that I am afraid; who wouldn't be? When you have to live every day as if it were your funeral because you're never sure if you will live to see the next sunrise."

Cursing, I slammed my fist against my thigh before continuing.

"But if I do not fight, I will never be able to look at myself in the mirror ever again because of the self-doubt. And that's how you control your fear, Jaune Arc; you fight, not for 'justice,' or 'honor.' Virtues imposed on you by society's misconceptions of the nature of our war against the Grimm. You fight because that is the truth of who you are. Do otherwise, and you will always be looking over your shoulder, wondering."

I barked a contemptuous laugh and concluded.

"Better to die knowing the truth, than to second-guess yourself for the rest of your life."

I huffed, exhausted, and stood up. At the same time, Jaune sat, stared, and tried his best to process what I told him. And as our names echoed through the room, broadcast through microphones. I turned back to Jaune.

"However, I also find that a good, shrill, battle cry is both more immediately useful, and cathartic."

* * *

Dear Readers

In the future, the updates for this story might slow down as I start on a couple of other projects. I hope that you can understand and that you will continue to support 'Scions of Magic.'

Please leave a review or critique so that my writing will continue to brighten your day.

Sincerely

Chbedok1


	19. Chapter 17

It was a short stroll, but one fraught with tension. Starting from the locker rooms, through a comfortably dim corridor and into the smaller, air-conditioned version of the colossal coliseum which staged the Beringal hunt. A floor of some form of metal replaced the sand, and while the arena's oval 'ring' was more constrained, something about the merciless lighting induced an imposing sense of claustrophobia. Enhanced by the arena's stands, packed to capacity in anticipation of the day's events.

"Hey uh, Pink?" Jaune Arc asked as the gangly, blonde hunter stepped with me into the spotlights. "What is that … thing?"

I slipped my ring onto my right ring finger, clenched my fist, and willed the pink band aglow by way of a reply.

"Just going back to basics, don't mind me."

"I meant that thing across your back. Oh, never mind."

I then looked down at Arc's sword, clutched in the vice grip that was his right hand.

"That thing doesn't seem to fit for your hand."

Jaune looked down at his sword and shrugged.

"It's fine, it's a family heirloom, and my teammate, Pyrrha, has been working with me to improve my swordplay. To compensate for any problems."

"Wait, hold on a minute." I gasped as I reached out and spun Jaune around to face me, "Pyrrha Nikos? Four-time champion of the Mistral Regional Combat Tournament?"

"Yes?"

"Absolutely unacceptable!"

"What?" Jaune exclaimed, "What are you saying? Pyrrha is one of the best swordswomen around! Who could be more acceptable as a teacher?"

"Pyrrha is a formidable swordsman," I clarified, "But her skill is as much training, as it is a natural talent. I find it unlikely that such a style would suit an obvious beginner such as yourself. A champion like her should know better."

"I am fine." Jaune firmly and calmly stated, "Pyrrha's training has helped me improve, and all she has done is focus solely on sharpening my fundamentals, nothing else. Furthermore, I will not stand for you dismissing my teammate, or her efforts to help me. Do that again, and test or not, I will fight you right here and now."

"You know," I replied, "Bravado doesn't change the fact that your teammate's help could be compounding your problems, instead of solving them. Furthermore," I said, grinning. "You only say that because you have never fought me."

All around us, the murmurs and speculation died down as opposite where Jaune and I stood, the rapid-fire rhythm of a purposeful stride preceded Glynda Goodwitch's arrival.

"Holy shit." Jaune despairingly exclaimed, "we're fucking fighting Ms. Goodwitch?!"

"Really? You wouldn't mind fighting me with your unbalanced sword and sloppy armor, but you're scared of facing Glynda? Besides, are we even supposed to fight her? Do you even know what the test parameters are?"

"Gentlemen," Glynda called, her voice magnified by hidden microphones throughout the arena. "Today's exam is a straightforward combat test; the grade will be on a pass-fail basis. Victory, or defeat, is not important, what we are looking for are an improvement in combat skill, and your ability to adapt to different opponents and fighting styles. Combatants to your marks, see to your weapons, and begin on my signal."

"Ms. Goodwitch, could I ask who our opponents are?"

Glynda smiled and slashed a riding crop through the air before replying to Jaune.

"I'm sure that I had told you, Mr. Arc; combatants, to your marks, and begin on my signal."

* * *

Hospitallers were one of the combat-oriented chapters in the Hierarchy of the Covenant. Alongside the Inquisition, Covenant users serving as missionaries for the faith. And the Shrikes, the Hierarchy's secret service.

Between the often fanatical Missionaries, and the Lord's assassins. Hospitallers served a wider variety of roles, compared to the specialists mentioned above during their prime; immovable guardians of the weak, implacable avengers of the oppressed, and healers of the sick and injured. It is for this reason that most of the best close-combat experts of the Hierarchy were Hospitallers; after all, the ill and injured are always the most vulnerable to predators.

And while the Chapter, and the Hierarchy, has lost most of their former military influence. The traditions are still kept alive to this day. Sons dedicated to the Hospitallers are trained extensively in both the martial and the healing arts. And I was considered to have had a talent for both, during my childhood spent training in the Chapter. Alongside my education as an Advocate during my years in Basic Hunter Training.

So when Jaune Arc, with his hand me down sword (because no swordsman worth his pay would use a weapon that did not fit in his hand) and slap – a – daisy armor over an old black hoodie, said with a Cheshire Cat grin.

"Don't worry; I'll go easy on you Wilson."

I took a perverse pleasure at watching Jaune's expression drop faster than the Hindenberg blimp once its balloon went up in flames, as I unslung, and joined the two halves of my quarter-staff, before using my ring to push magic through the shaft, igniting the tip with crackling pink energy.

A classic weapon, for civilizing a more brutal age. Allowing a party to the Covenant to utilize the Web's raw power without direct contact.

"Combatants. You may begin."

And as Jaune ducked behind his shield and cautiously closed the distance, I bound forward instead. Before dancing to Jaune's right while sweeping my staff vertically right to left, the movement blading my body parallel to my staff's straight-held shaft as it deflected Jaune's wide-slashing shield as he clumsily tried to match my footwork.

Over-extending himself, Jaune was left wrong-footed while I glided closer and stabbed down at my opponent's vulnerable ankles. With the reflexes of a talented amateur, Jaune was somehow able to scoot his feet out of the way. So I followed through with the movement; pivoting to my right and simultaneously snapping my staff up between Jaune's legs.

I think the fact that he was taller than me was the critical factor in Jaune's surprising agility.

Leaping safely forward and rolling back to his feet, Jaune swung his shield out in a reverse backhand. Which checked my pursuit and drove me back a step before we stopped dead, waiting for the other to make the next move; Jaune ducking again behind his shield, and my staff in a right, over-handed grip.

We stared each other down, feinting and shuffling our feet, feeling out our respective openings in our guards, until I happened to glance past Jaune's shoulder and saw Cinder and Emerald sitting directly behind my opponent in the stands. Emerald was staring straight at Jaune, with her hand stretched towards him while Cinder caught my eye, slowly crossed her legs left to right, and waggled her fingers coyly at me.

That wasn't weird. Or hot. I thought until I remembered that I was in the middle of battle.

But when I turned back to Jaune and found him trying to see what I was looking at behind him, instinct took over. So I stepped close and stabbed him just above the right knee, using the momentum initiated from the step to drive the staff's tip deep and buckle Jaune's leg.

I then, however, pivoted left and stepped away from the disabled hunter to give him a chance to recover. Hitting an opponent with his back turned was too dishonorable, even for me.

"Boo! No cheap shots! BOOOO!"

I looked around and glared at the ginger-headed huntress jeering at me from the stands.

"Is this not why you came? Is that not why you are here?!" I yelled at the girl, pointing at a doubled-over, panting Jaune Arc before turning towards the spectators in general, "ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?!"

"No! Get on with it you fat twit!"

Everybody's a critic.

"Mr. Arc," Glynda called from the sidelines, "Are you able to continue?"

"Yes! Yes, I fucking am!"

Ooh. Edgy.

"…Very well. Combatants to your marks, and resume on my signal."

Spinning my staff as I walked back to the center of the arena. I glanced over at Jaune marching beside me and attempted an apology.

All I got in return was the bastard sprinting over before I could get a word out, and chop down at my head. The tip of his sword catching on the shaft of my staff, before sliding down my cheek and scratching across the pauldron on my left shoulder, stenciled with a white cross, before continuing harmlessly down the left breast of my dark, padded jacket.

I felt the force of the stroke, and it was going to bruise. But the jacket's material did not yield to the razor edge, which was why I was merely driven back instead of winded, or worse.

"Well, now I think we're quite even." I coolly stated as I regarded the marring of the white paint on my shoulder armor. "Defeat comes knocking, are you ready?"

"I warned you before, never mess with my friends again Cardin!"

Holy shit he's gone mad.

Crying wildly, Jaune slashed again. Cutting the air above my head as I bobbed aside, weaving and trying to line the tip of my staff with a gap in the hunter's crazed offensive.

I then mentally kicked myself, braced the staff's butt in my left hand and locked the elbow along my torso. Supporting the staff's length with my similarly couched right arm, and harmonizing with the momentum of Jaune's onslaught, I finally stepped into my opponent's guard. Matching the forward momentum of my hips with the moment the tip of my staff made contact with Jaune's solar plexus, an inch beneath the chest-plate. An old technique, from a time before the powder and bullet. To stop a man, or beast, in whatever armor he or it chose to wear.

I then stepped and pivoted left, switching to a left-handed grip mid-turn and dropping the staff onto the toes of Jaune's right foot.

And as Jaune's leg buckled, I noticed the slight twinge of green rolling across the back of my arms, beneath the sleeves of my fatigues, the plates of my armor, and the gauntlet covering my left hand. There was magic in the arena, but before I could enter the Web for a closer look, Jaune's body hit the floor with an audible thud.

And then the keening, monotone beep echoed through the arena.

"Ah, shit!" I vehemently spat, dropping my staff and sliding to my knees next to my insensate opponent. "I had something smart for this moment," I muttered as I undid the chest-plate and began feeling for a pulse, "but, under the circumstances, I think it would be a rather flat-line."

* * *

"James, we need to talk about Wilson."

General Ironwood sighed.

"Dare I ask what he did this time?"

"Stopped Jaune Arc's heart during a combat exam."

General Ironwood looked at Ozpin, seated behind his cog desk while glaring back at the General over bridged hands. He then rubbed an imaginary smudge off his trousers before replying.

"You have to admit, that is pretty badass."

Glynda Goodwitch stormed into Ozpin's office then, a look of absolute fury stamped across her face.

"James, that Wilson Pink is a danger to this school and everyone around him! I demand that you do something to rein that monster in!"

"W-Why me?!" General Ironwood spluttered as Glynda just trampled over the rest of the General's argument.

"He is your student! He is your responsibility! Now, if there is nothing else, the headmaster and I have important matters to discuss. You may go."

"Excuse me, Glynda but -!"

Glynda's reply was to only point towards her left.

"I direct you to the door. Please don't give me an excuse to show you to it."


	20. Chapter 18

"Good morning, Wilson. What's with the gift basket?"

"Good morning, Cinder," I replied as my raven-haired team leader fell into step beside me, her heels and my shoes playing a double beat as we walked down the sunlit filled corridors. "Just visiting an invalid. Well-wishes and whatnot."

"I would think so since you were the one who 'invalided' him in the first place." Cinder said, a mischievous grin on her voice. "Do you mind if I go with you?"

I turned to look at Cinder without breaking stride.

"I don't mind; I'm just curious as to why."

"Well," Cinder began, pulling out a compact and checking her makeup in the reflection. "I think that, as your team leader, I bear a degree of responsibility for my subordinate's screw-ups. And thus, I too should make an appearance, to show respect."

"Hah!" I barked as Cinder, and I turned a corner in the corridor, "respect? Yes, respect is important isn't it?"

"Quite," Cinder quietly replied as we approached the infirmary wing. "Respect is a measure of power, and power is like money; the best way to display it is through generosity."

"And you are as generous as you are beautiful," I answered as I shouldered my way through the infirmary door and allowed a slightly glowing Cinder to pass through first.

The entire room fell silent as I walked in, and every eye turned to regard me as I stepped in front of Cinder. Whether the occupants' quiet evaluation was hostile, or otherwise, I thought it best to get my point across as early as possible.

"Now, now." I said, raising the gift basket before me, "I know I'm supposed to share, but I don't think this is enough for everyone."

I then leveled my gaze, and my voice, across the room as I continued.

"So if anybody wants a piece, you all are going to have to ask, first come first served. So, anybody wants a piece?"

Every hunter in the room turned away, back to either their colleagues or their conversations. I then stepped aside and allowed Cinder to go first.

"My, you're pretty generous yourself. Aren't you Wilson?"

"I heard women like that in a guy," I smoothly replied as Cinder's scent of smoked fruit got stronger, "what do you think?"

"Wilson! Over here!"

Raising a hand in acknowledgment, I smiled and walked over to the bed on which Jaune Arc was lying. Before stopping a respectful distance, and bowing towards the motley trio of varied colors sitting around him.

"Glad to see you are well, Jaune," I said by way of greeting before the girl with ginger hair, occupying the chair closest to the foot of the bed, snatched the gift basket I was handing over out of my hands. "I apologize for … stopping your heart back at the arena."

"Ah! You also resuscitated me, back in the arena. I think that evens things out. Although …"

And as the ginger-headed girl began tearing into the basket, Jaune turned towards the red-headed amazon sitting beside him.

"Pyrrha, mind if Wilson and I have a moment?"

Nodding with more tenderness than was professional, Pyrrha Nikos patted Jaune's hand before vacating her seat. But not before we exchanged glances as she brushed past me, her hostile threat, and my cheerful indifference. I then pulled the still warm chair closer to Jaune and leaned in closer as the hunter began conspiratorially.

"Wilson, I know this might sound weird. But during the exam, during the fight that is, did you notice anything weird?"

"Weird?" I probed carefully, "As in?"

"Alright, hear me out Wilson; at some point during the fight, I thought that you were someone else. Or, to be more specific, I thought that I saw you as Cardin, someone with whom I have had bad blood. At that moment, I thought you were that guy, and you were taunting me. Saying bad things about me, my team, and Pyrrha."

Jaune sighed and took a moment to compose himself before continuing.

"Things that you wouldn't say if a kid were in the audience. Hell, I'm an adult, and I was disgusted. But here is the thing; deep down, I KNEW it wasn't Cardin. Couldn't have been. But … the rage. I couldn't fight the rage, you know?"

I thought of Emerald, then; sitting next to Cinder with an outstretched hand.

"Something didn't add up then, Wilson." Jaune continued over my thoughts, "So I just wanted to ask if you noticed anything too?"

"Jaune, do you mind if I took your pulse?"

Before Jaune could reply, I took up the hunter's wrist in my ring hand and entered the Web again.

Unlike the incident with Emerald, the experience as I allowed the Covenant's power to flow through my body was not as agonizing as before. The practice, and acclimatization from wearing the ring more frequently, had paid off. And as my senses manifested the Web before my eyes, I decided to begin wearing the ring on a semi-permanent basis. Considering especially, how often I had been tapping into the Covenant's power recently.

Through the Web, I located the threads connecting Jaune's body to the constant circuit of magic which flowed through our surroundings. Strings of gold, blue, and white energy twisted into a messy knot and vibrating slightly with trace amounts of light green power, mixed in with the white.

Peering closer, I noticed that the green energy was slowly dissipating as the white reasserted itself as if returning to its natural state. The strings were also vibrating less, and untangling itself from the knot as the green energy dissolved into the Web in general. I then noted the source of the threads, Jaune's eyes; pools of bright blue, but filmed over with green.

Interesting. I thought as I focused and surged a brief burst of pink energy through the Web, and scoured the green out of Jaune's system. The golden white returned with a vengeance, and the green film evaporated, allowing the blue to shine through again.

"Wilson," Jaune asked, unaware of what was going on, "what are you doing?"

"Traditional medicinal practice from my hometown." I lied quickly, "I think it's just stress, back then in the arena, but you'll be fine. In fact -."

"YOU BITCH!"

I turned around just in time to see Pyrrha slapping Cinder.

"Oi! Hey!"

I shot out of my chair and felt a pair of hands on my arms and chest. Instantly my own hands snapped up and trapped my opponent's. I then dropped and shifted my weight left before stepping through and sandwiching the hunter's arms between us, with my belly tight against his back. Followed by my abruptly rolling my shoulders and dumping the hunter over my hips and onto the floor.

At last, I managed to force my way between the squabbling huntresses. Riding the force of a stray right cross to my jaw before stepping under, and forcing the offending arm palm up. Keeping the pressure on just above the elbow, I trapped Pyrrha's right heel with my own and levered her hyper-extended arm over my head and down sharply. Finally checking her thigh with my hip, and turning the movement into a hip throw.

And before the ginger huntress could join in, I stood and backed Cinder away from Jaune's bed, yelling.

"Hey, hey! What the fuck is going on?!"

"Oh God! I don't know!" Cinder cried tremulously, clinging onto my back, "Pyrrha just attacked me for no reason!"

"Don't you DARE pin this on me," Pyrrha shouted back as she climbed back to her feet while favoring her right arm, "I will not allow anyone to speak about Jaune so shamefully!"

"Pyrrha!" Jaune cut in as he hobbled slowly out of bed, "Please stop!"

"Jaune! You didn't hear what this slut said about -!"

"Neither do I want to," Jaune calmly stated as he placed a hand on the shorter huntress. "I don't care what Cinder said; I will not allow you, or anyone from my team, to stoop to her level. We are better than that."

Jaune then turned to look at Cinder, and me, by extension.

"However, I think an apology would be appropriate considering the current situation."

"Excuse me!" Cinder snapped, "I hardly think you get to order me around."

"Then I will ask instead," I said, shrugging Cinder's warmth aside like an uncomfortably cloying blanket. "Cinder; please Goddamn apologize."

"What are you saying, Wilson?"

"Seriously, Cinder?"

The golden-eyed huntress glared down at me, and I continued.

"You were going to apologize for my part in laying Jaune up in the infirmary anyway, weren't you?"

Cinder finally sighed, her outrage deflating with one long exhalation before turning to Pyrrha, Jaune, and their teammates.

"I am sorry, Ms. Nikos. I should have been more discreet with my words. Please, forgive me."

In turn, Pyrrha snorted but gracefully replied.

"Apology accepted. Ms. Fall. Now I think you and Mr. Pink should leave. Jaune needs his rest."

"Agreed. Get well soon Jaune." I said before turning to Cinder, "after you, fearless leader?"

Without deigning to reply, Cinder whirled around and stalked towards the Infirmary door. Only to be stopped by the ginger-haired huntress just short of the foot of Jaune's bed.

"You know," the huntress began in a slight, nasal whine, "I don't think this broad's apology was sincere. I say she needs to apologize again, but better. What do you think, Jaune?"

I put myself in front of Cinder again, standing so that she could have a clear shot at the Huntress while I could blindside her from the left flank.

"What you should be thinking," I whispered, injecting a slight rasp into each word, "is that since I have fulfilled my obligation of honor, what is stopping me from putting you next to Jaune in your very own infirmary bed?"

"Ooh ~. Is that a date, handsome?"

... I can work with that.

"What say we get some numbers exchanged, you give me a call, and we see what happens?"

Unfortunately, before I could stick the landing, Cinder walked up and started pushing me towards the front door.

* * *

"You are a tasteless pig, Wilson Pink."

"If you are going to be like that, you are paying for this round's crepes."

Cinder folded her arms and glared at me in reply.

"Hey, Emerald pays for hers. And she is the biggest skinflint I know."

Huffing, Cinder pulled out a dainty, gaudily dyed affair of cloth and string, and tossed the change to the crepes vendor in exchange for two neatly wrapped packages,

"Anyway," Cinder continued as I took a bite, savoring the vanilla that suffused my mouth. "You are such an animal; is that what you are attracted to then? Red-headed and buxom women? How typical of men."

"And you're jealous of a short-top ginger with her brains attached to her chest." I slowly replied, "You're one of a kind."

" … I am not jealous."

"It would be cute if I did not have to answer to you. But you're my team leader, and it's just weird as fuck."

"I can't be jealous just because I'm your team leader?" Cinder incredulously asked.

"No. It's because you are a leader that you should try to be above such pettiness. Like Jaune, for example."

Cinder snorted, and almost sprayed Crepe all over her blouse.

"Jaune Arc? That joke of a hunter?"

"No, Jaune Arc; honorable, mature, charismatic enough to cement the loyalty of three hunters better than he is in every way? Speaking of which, why did you piss off Pyrrha for?"

Brushing a stray curl of pure midnight away from her cheek, Cinder considered taking another bite, and finally decided to answer;

"Just confirming a suspicion of mine; it would seem that Pyrrha Nikos is the Huntress I have been looking for."

"Ah," I said while cautiously choosing my words, " is this regarding the superweapon in Beacon?"

"I've paid for the Crepes, so you don't get to ask. I will reveal everything in time, and all you have to do is what I require of you, nothing else. Which reminds me, you might need to get a new suit sometime this week."

I was about to ask, but then the phone Roman gave me began to vibrate in my back trouser pocket. And when I looked back up, Cinder was gone.

A new suit though …


	21. Chapter 19

My name is Wilson Pink.

"… Forgive me, for I have sinned. I would have come for confession earlier if I had not been so busy. Another sin, for which I need to be absolved, brother."

"I am glad that you are strong in your faith brother. But this is a tailor shop."

I knew that, so I slipped off my ring and slid the metal band across the smoothed surface of the wooden desk, for the scrutiny of the man sitting curiously behind it. A man dressed in a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing a rosary strapped around a forearm corded with iron muscle. A rosary bearing the image of a shrike bird stamped onto a coin dangling off the end of the beads.

"Oh." The man in the blue shirt said, before nodding and pushing the ring back towards me, "please, come this way."

Slipping the ring back onto my finger, I stepped aside and allowed the man to slip out from his seat and lead the way into the back of the shop. Through racks of jackets, a cluttered corridor, and finally through a set of red double doors, I stepped out of the musk of freshly sewn cloth, and into the rosemary tinged warmth of a busy soup kitchen.

"You know, brother," the man said to me as we pushed past a pantry and breakroom, "the chapel's entrance is on 2nd Fleet Street, half a block up. This here, where the tailor shop is? That's 1st Fleet."

I know that. Now. Still.

"Just wanted to get to know the area. I would have been down for services earlier. But things have been … hectic."

"No doubt, Wilson Pink;" The man said, to my astonishment, "taking down White Fang's 3rd best assassin during the Picture Town fire? The gunfight at the ferry terminal? The Hierarchy has thought that you had given up your ring, though. Swearing off the light of the Covenant for the rest of your days."

"The rumors have been greatly exaggerated," I clarified, adjusting the ring in question on my finger. "Just took a bit of a vacation, that's all."

"And you are, as they say, back in action?"

The man in blue stopped as we turned a corner and approached a plain, brown door.

"Eh," I said by way of reply.

"I see," The man noted, peering through the window set in the office door. "In any case, go right in, please. Father Bell Lin will see you."

Nodding, the man turned and disappeared the way we came as I knocked. And pushed through as a rough bass bade me enter.

"Hospitaller Wilson Pink; the Chapel of the Barbed Star has had word of your arrival in Vale. I knew it was a matter of time before we would finally meet."

The first thing I noticed about Father Bell Lin was the badge pinned to the collar of his grey, checked shirt. An iron disc, stamped with the image of a winged stallion. The second thing was the weathered masculinity that cloaked the lean, labour-hardened pastor; identified by the white collar that encircled his neck, hidden slightly by the magnificent beard trimmed along the iron bar that served as Father Lin's jaw.

"Father-Hussar Bell Lin," I recited as the man walked over from an overladen bookshelf and extended his hand palm down, which I grasped and kissed as I continued.

"My respects to one who leads with the Covenant's favor."

"And I offer sanctuary for one who serves the will of the Covenant." Father Lin replied. "You have made quite an impression in Vale, Wilson Pink. Enough to catch the eye of a General with an iron heart, and work with a criminal. An interesting predicament, for which you have come seeking … guidance? I assume?"

"You are well informed, Father Lin," I stated with some degree of surprise, which Father Lin caught on, judging by his reply.

"The Covenant connects all things, and those who actively tap into it can be tracked through the Web if one knows how. That is my duty, as both a member of the Hussars Chapter, and Chapel-Master of the Hierarchy's affairs in Vale after all."

My impression of Father Lin changed then; Tapping into the Covenant is a taxing experience, even for someone conditioned over decades to the energy's intensity. Yet to access the Web so extensively as to oversee all parties to the Covenant in any given area. And further having that area consisting of an entire city.

"Not to mention having an extensive network of informants through all walks of life in Vale." Father Lin added thoughtfully, "they are useful, spies. If deplorable in some cases."

Father Lin chuckled then and strolled over to lean against the fold-out work table occupied by a pile of papers, and an open laptop set to a screensaver of a black tabby cat.

"But that's enough of that; you're here to ask for aid. And as Chapel-Master, I am duty-bound to offer whatever aid I, and the Chapel, can offer within reason."

No need to stand on ceremony then, I thought before reaching into the breast pocket of my casual blazer, pulling out a green bullet and tossing it over to the Chapel-Master.

"Interesting," he said, "Barring the obvious fact, of course, is that this is a bullet."

"A bullet that can cut my access to the Covenant. Got shot with this a couple of weeks ago, I could not access the Covenant to heal until it was taken out of me. Even then it was hours before the Covenant's power acted to stop the blood loss. And two nights for me to recover fully. "

Father Lin's expression took on a thoughtful pallor.

"A weapon that can neutralize the Covenant's power. Who, or what, fired this bullet?"

"An android belonging to one James Ironwood. The 'General with an iron heart,' as you called him."

"Please! As if General Ironwood has the vision, or the capability to devise such a weapon." Father Lin countered, relishing the contempt in every word. "However, he may have access to Third Parties who may have helped him develop this bullet. That would coincide with the reports of increased heretical activity within the city limits these past months."

Argyle, and Neo, came to mind when Father Lin brought up the topic of Covenant Third Parties; people who could access a degree of the Covenant's powers. But not being formally part of the Hierarchy they can't perceive the Web, and affect it, like I or Father Lin can.

"Could someone who can't perceive the Web of the Covenant sever my access to the Web itself? Or affect my powers at any level?" I asked.

"Impossible! The only person who could possibly sever your access right now is me. But if I had to do that, I might as well just kill you and save myself the bother."

Yeesh.

"That's morbid. Wouldn't severing my access to the Web be a useful technique for you?"

Father Lin smiled, pushed himself back upright, and said.

"That would be true in theory. However, the connection we share to the Web is a two-way circuit; I could stop your access to the Web, but the power needed to stop the Web's access TO YOU, for any duration of time, would level an entire city block. Easy. There are less destructive ways to put you down if I had to."

That sounds like an avenue for further, personal research.

"In any case," Father Lin continued, "General Ironwood's 'silver bullet' will require further investigation, thank you for bringing it to my attention, brother Pink. Now, is there anything else you need?"

"Yes, well." I coughed, before clearing my throat and pushing forward. "You know that 'working for a criminal' bit you brought up earlier? Well, I have a job coming up, and I need a new suit."

I quailed beneath the force of Father Lin's disapproval as he asked, "Weapons?"

"Oh. I have something tucked away, although I might need your help for that in the future as well."

Father Lin's stare of disapproval continued for some time.

"There is a price for the Chapel's aid, whenever should you call upon it. Is that agreeable with you, brother Pink?"

"Of course, I am at your disposal."

Father Lin's features softened as he nodded once and guided me towards his office door.

"So be it. It is a good thing then that the Chapel had decided to expand into the tailor shop next door, considering your request. Isn't it, brother?"

* * *

"William! Hey man, you got a new mask? Love the new suit, elegant cut, especially along the shoulders."

I turned towards the speaker who slipped out from amongst the debris ringing the clearing that was within the storage section of the warehouse I was standing, and waiting, in. A menacingly rugged giant wearing armour over a sleeveless uniform that was as pale as his full-face mask. The giant had slung a huge sword, the threat of the weapon offset by the joviality set in his massive, chocolate-toned shoulders, and the nearly imperceptible skip in his stride.

I thought he had the wrong person until he came closer and raised his hands before him.

"You're the guy who jinxed that truck heist!" I finally recalled as the man chuckled in embarrassment, "you look like you got a promotion."

"Hell yeah I did! Sent six human cop scum to whatever they called gods, and got the goods from that heist back safely. Got promoted to lieutenant last week, with new clothes and all the perks. What do you think?"

"Well," I finally managed to say once the lieutenant walked around once with his arms outstretched, "It looks very intimidating."

"Awesome! Just what I was going for."

Time to change the subject.

"In any case, what's up tonight? There's a stage, a showpiece, and even catering when I came in earlier. Whose birthday is it?"

The lieutenant laughed.

"It's just a little orientation for new White Fang recruits; introductions, re-affirming our commitment to wresting the rights of all Faunus-kind from the human oppressors. Oh! And we have a bit of a raffle tonight actually; celebrating the one-month birthday for the kid of the lady who does our catering. First prize is a weekend cruise around the Cape of the Nesting Isles, down past Menagerie Island, and back into Vale harbour."

Who would want to go to fucking Menagerie of all places? I thought.

Oh, wait. FAUNUS-terrorist raffle. Right.

I was about to respectfully decline when Roman came crashing through; flipping through a set of cue cards and cursing as Neo jogged along behind while brushing his hat.

"Now, I'll be the first to admit, humans... are the worst. Case in point …" Roman read, before whirling on Neo. "I was supposed to start WITH a joke! Not be the BUTT of one damn it!"

Juggling both Roman's hat and her parasol, Neo single-handedly flipped through a series of gestures back at her superior's outburst.

"What the hell is self-deprecating humor?! Fuck it! Fine! We'll go with it, but this is the last time I let you write my speeches!"

Roman then turned towards the lieutenant and me.

"Lieutenant, I want you on crowd control. Mingle, don't be obtrusive, but be ready to move if necessary. Wilson, I want you on the gangways above the stage."

I snapped the headset and radio mid-flight as Roman tossed it to me, before continuing.

"Keep an eye out. And if you spot any trouble, notify either the Lieutenant or Neo. That clear? Good."

Roman then plucked his hat from Neo's hands before brushing past us towards the door leading to the section of the warehouse where I had seen the stage set up when I 'clocked in' earlier that evening.

The lieutenant then said to me, as both Roman and Neo left.

"Well, that's that then." The giant whistled and pointed towards the radio in my hands, asking. "In any case, do you know how to use that, Will?"


	22. Chapter 20

The most significant surprise of my life was, I believe, my tenth birthday; I came home expecting presents and cake and got told instead that I was being put into a monastery because my parents promised me to God on the second I was born.

Happy fucking birthday to me.

I never believed that I could ever be surprised again. At least, not to the same degree as that tenth birthday.

But at that White Fang rally, I was dumbstruck. Thrice. On the same night.

The first surprise was during Roman's speech.

"Government; military; even the schools: they're all to blame for your lot in life! And like pests, they need to be stomped out! Fortunately, I'm the best exterminator around... No offense to any rodents in the room."

Roman then snapped his fingers, and both the curtain and my jaw hit the floor.

The Atlesian Paladin-290. Or, to be precise.

THE ATLESIAN PALADIN – 290!

A two-story jammed packed with weapons colossus, built with steel and the most advanced engineering. Rumours of its construction had been percolating across all levels of the military grapevine when I was still serving as a Medic.

Some called it the new 'King of the Battlefield.'

The conspiracy theorists said that this was the impending sign of the mechanical revolution that would enslave all the flesh-bags when the mechanical spirits give the order.

The infantry, on the other hand, couldn't care less and just wanted the techies to get that blasted coffee-machine fixed.

Whatever one thinks about the use of taxpayer dollars or the priority of technology in the theatre of war, no one can doubt that the Paladin was impressive if nothing else. No one can doubt, either, that the Atlesian Military would be loath to have anyone else play with their spanking new toy until they got a chance to blow something up (Possibly a defenseless Faunus village with more guts than working guns. Standard Operating Procedure).

So how did Roman Torchwick manage?

" … To snag a few, before they hit the shelves …"

General Ironwood needed to see this.

There was a trio of spotlights built into the railing of the gangway I was standing on, all directed toward the stage where Roman was whipping the crowd into a passionate frenzy. Slowly, deliberately, I inched over to the middle spotlight and pushed myself into the shadows just behind the blazing glare.

I then pulled out my scroll and began recording; the full house, Roman's performance, and the Paladin at the center of the screen.

It was during the second pan across the warehouse that I noticed the pair of them.

I kept the recording going for a couple more seconds. I then sent the record out and deleted the copy in my scroll. Before tucking the cellular device back into my suit pocket, and tapping on the radio set strapped to my hip.

"Lieutenant, you there?" I whispered.

"Yeah, what's wrong Will?" the Lieutenant replied, equally soft, but slightly harsher in tone.

"There are two suspicious people just … two rows down from where you are. Brunette female, blonde male. Female has a bow on her head and a white, open coat. Male has a tail. What do you think?"

There was a moment of crackling silence before the Lieutenant's rasp came back in my ear-piece.

"What's suspicious about them?"

"Everyone else is cheering; they're not."

"Notify the boss." I heard before the Lieutenant continued, "All units, converge on me. On me."

Switching channels on the radio set, I relayed the news to Roman. He then stepped forward for a closer look while the Faunus in plain clothes stepped closer to the stage.

And then as Roman caught sight of the two intruders. The lights went out.

Beside me, a pair of heavy boots crashed onto the metal gangway and the second surprise of the night hailed me from out of the lightless pitch in cheery Russian.

"(Hello there)."

Fucking Argyle.

* * *

"Argyle," I called into the darkness as I switched my radio set off. "You are a bold one."

The boot steps got louder, ringing clearly over the cries and the escalating chaos beneath me as I shifted my weight, and position, in response to Argyle's advance.

"Still not much for tactics though."

A blazing blue pillar then ignited before me and swung down at my head.

Ducking right, the cane I dug out from what remained of my arsenal for that night whipped up under the cut, whipping across Argyle's torso and a possible secondary weapon, as I passed under the cerulean beam of energy. Transferring my weight 180 degrees backward, I flipped the cane down and onto Argyle's sword. Before closing the gap, and gluing my back, to what I assumed was Argyle's left flank.

My position put the entirety of my weight, through my cane, directly onto Argyle's weapon. By filling any space between my body and Argyle's, my center of gravity has dominated efficiently Argyle's own. Twisting his internal structure to such an extent, that for all his strength, Argyle could not free his sword from beneath my cane.

The movement is known as 'the four-corner cut,' or when done bare-handed, throw. As a technique, it would have resulted in two disarms, differentiated by both the amount of blood spilled, and how many hands the opponent had left.

But this was fucking Argyle. I would have been very disappointed if it had been that easy.

"I did not expect to see you here, Wilson," Argyle grunted as he strained against the weight of my blade. "Have you joined White Fang? I thought you despised Faunus?"

"Well, 'despise' is a rather strong word," I tightly replied, "And I am here on the clock. So if you could refer to me as 'Will' until I punch out, it would be much appreciated."

"Of course. I may want to kill you, but that doesn't mean I can't be professional about it."

"Glad you understand," I said, twitching minute adjustments in response to Argyle's wriggling against my back and left flank. "How're things since we last met?"

"Not bad," Argyle growled as he jerked aside and I kept the pressure on, "when you messed up my teleportation, I ended up landing on a gravestone set on some cliff in the middle of nowhere."

"Eh?! My bad. Whose was it? Any damage?"

"It had a rose on it, but no name I recognize," Argyle replied hoarsely, failing in an attempt to shove me away from him. "Cracked it a little though, had to spend a week and 300 bucks to get it repaired."

"That's a rip," I replied, breathing hard, but evenly.

"It was the right thing to do. One should not trample on a person's memory, no matter how insignificant it is."

"That's the Argyle I know; always looking out for other people."

"Speaking of memories. That weapon," Argyle growled into my right ear. "I remember it well. Did you dig it out just for me?"

"… Technically." I replied.

"That's good. Do you remember this blade?"

Despite myself, I looked down and past the aquamarine radiance at Argyle's direction.

"Angela's claymore?" I gasped.

"Angela's vengeance! And mine!"

Dropping to a knee, Argyle managed to free the claymore from my pin before pivoting on the same knee towards his left, gripping the claymore's blade as he cut at me sideways.

Stepping out to my left and kicking my right heel up, the sword caught itself on the ridges of my boot sole. Which both fended off the attack at my legs and provided a stable platform to push off from, allowing me to whip around and bear down on Argyle, who was still on his knee, leaving his torso exposed.

Not that it stopped him from rushing forward, wrapping his left arm around my head, and shift his weight in an attempt to mash my face into the weapon's edge; held in an icepick grip and humming with intense, searing power all along its length.

I futilely attempted to resist Argyle's immeasurable strength, and finally gave up. Releasing the tension in my waist and legs dropped my head under Argyle's arm. Throwing the giant off-balance, and into the path of my tackle. Springing up from my knees, and staggering Argyle with my right flank as I bull-rushed my opponent's left side.

I was then thrown back by Argyle's backhand. A blow which sent me rolling over my back on the gangway before regaining my feet.

The two of us squared-off then as my eyes began to adjust to the gloom; Argyle standing tall with Angela's claymore slung over his right shoulder, ready to be borne down on his victim's head. In response I kept my knees flexed, rounding my shoulders around my center-line and blading my body into a right-forward stance. All while holding my cane so that its head floated before my right shoulder, and the shaft extended down to shield my left side and leg.

"Trì sheallaidhean de na Morrigan; I see you took more than just Angela's sword."

"I would expect you to recognize the style. You developed this for Angela back when we were a team, didn't you? Blade over the shoulder, that's the offensive stance, yes?"

I chuckled and nodded in reply.

"The three stances of the Morrigan, consisting of your offensive 'Winged Crow' stance and two others; the defensive 'Hag' stance, and the deceptive 'Siren' stance. Three forms with unique strengths, for a hundred enemies. There is a problem with the postures though, which is why Angela and I considered the style incomplete. Isn't that right, Argyle?"

"Not for long, Will. I did not expect to see you here tonight, but our little exchange was insightful. One day, the last thing you see will be Angela's final legacy as I take your head off your shoulders."

I snorted and lowered my cane to a horizontal reverse grip, parallel above the gangway.

"You're fighting me with an incomplete style, the limitations of which I am completely aware of since I created it, and you have declared your intention to kill me. What makes you think you are going to get a second chance at this?"

Argyle roared mirthfully and turned away.

"Because I did not expect to see you here, I'm on the clock. But that one has been looking forward to meeting you."

The lights came back on then, and the world before me disappeared into a white pane of glass as the third surprise of the night clawed me across my back and sent me crashing into the gangway.

And as my vision cleared, I saw Argyle straddling the railing of the gangway we were on. Meanwhile, groups of men dressed in bulky, black body armor threw themselves over the rails of the several walkways they were on, rappelling down on thick black ropes.

Argyle then said before dropping out of sight.

"Yes. That one's job tonight is killing you."

* * *

Dear followers of Scions of Magic - Getting even

Thank you for your readership. There are times when a passion for writing can only go so far, and it is people like you who give writers the will to keep writing.

Thank you

Sincerely

Chbedok1


	23. B-roll (4) - Not to be done in Beacon

Form a Human Supremacist group;

Form a Faunus Supremacist group;

'Cobra' is not an acceptable battle-cry;

'White Fang' is not an acceptable battle-cry either;

"Suffer not a Xenos to live' will never be acceptable, no matter what the context;

Form a Hunter's Union;

The Bullpup refers to an aircraft, and Hunters are not allowed to tell Freshmen that it needs to be fed treats to fly correctly;

First-year students should not be advised to consult the Tech-priest when equipment acts up;

'Holy oil' for appeasing the 'Machine Spirit' does not exist;

Never say 'boom' whenever one is handling explosives;

Form a roundtable of 'knights';

Send them on a quest for the Holy Grail

The Holy Grail is not in Glynda Goodwitch's office;

Neither is it Head-Master Ozpin's coffee mug;

Nor is it Professor Oobleck's coffee mug;

Don't encourage Professor Oobleck;

Don't encourage Professor Port period;

Catching the chicken Faunus is not acceptable fight training;

Catching the chicken Faunus will not allow you to shit greased lightning;

Elves do not cook our food;

Elves are not housekeepers;

Bribe Ruby Rose with cookies;

Dare Ruby Rose to wear a collar;

Dare Yang Xiao Long to wear a collar;

Dare Blake to wear a collar;

Dare Weiss to convince Ruby to wear a collar;

Swearing by Glynda Goodwitch does not constitute a binding agreement;

Neither is it a valid oath while testifying;

Glynda Goodwitch only looks divine;

'As you wish' is not an acceptable response when Glynda Goodwitch asks a question;

Neither is it acceptable when a female professor asks a question;

It is not acceptable when Professor Port asks a question;

'The Emperor Protects' is not an excuse to not bring equipment on field trips;

'Acts of God' is not an excuse for any destruction caused on campus grounds;

'Acts of Yang Xiao Long' is not an excuse either;

Military ranks do not apply in Beacon;

Stop telling the freshmen they do;


	24. Chapter 21

My first action was to push myself back onto my feet and demand that Argyle stay where he is and put his hands in the air.

My second action was to incur an attack of opportunity as three daggers slammed into my back. Driving me back to my knees, pouring molten lead into my veins through the entry wounds, and turning my thoughts into a single roar of nauseated agony.

"So you defeated Kiri Tucson, once White Fang's third-best assassin. Just as I, Lionel the Centipede, was before Kiri succeeded me when I left for … greener pastures."

Succeeded? I thought through the clench of my jaw as a thousand clawing, grasping feet replaced the lead. But that did not dull the pain as Lionel's namesakes bit deep, their venom fitted my nerves with firebrands and turned my blood to a poison that threatened to boil my sanity away, one drop at a time.

"I am not impressed. Did I make a special trip all the way back to this stinking city for this? For you? What a waste of my time. But then again, With Kiri out of commission, perhaps I could reclaim my position as White Fang's third-best assassin. After I deal with you and that Roman Torchwick. What was the leadership thinking? Working with a sub-species like that gangster and dragging our name down to his level."

My reply hissed through my pain-constricted throat, the ghost of an answer I wasn't sure I had given.

But Lionel heard it apparently if his kicking me onto my side was any indication.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," Lionel drawled in his whiny tenor as he buried a heel into my side, "what did you -!"

As Lionel placed the entirety of his weight on his foot, I rolled aside and jabbed my cane up. The tip then flicked up along Lionel's leg and caught his crotch as it dropped down a level when he was forced to do a split in an attempt to keep his balance.

With his voice two octaves higher, Lionel fell backward. Giving me the chance to reverse my roll and stumble upright. A slash of black-trimmed crimson then appeared at the level of my eye. On reflex, the cane in my hands shot up and out. Deflecting the blood-clad arm aside as my hips crashed into Lionel's, and my elbow sliced open his cheek.

Tossing my cane into my right hand, I grabbed the cuff of Lionel's robes and yanked him backward. And as my opponent staggered out in front me, I surged in and shoved; focusing the entirety of my weight behind the point formed between my forehead, and the horizontal grip across my cane.

The son of a bitch did not fall. Impressive.

Despite having the air driven out of his lungs, Lionel still possessed the presence of mind to level his hand at me as I pursued him. Weaving, with his hands up, out of range of my slashing cane as I slipped the blast of energy directed at me and closed the distance.

The mage then danced in and landed a blow which I thought blew my liver out from beneath my ribs, and subsequently hurled me into the gangway's railing.

"Hah!" Lionel wheezed, "Typical brute, thinking that a Mage can't fight."

Bouncing off the railing, I stepped off the line from a textbook combination ending with a right hook. Before ducking, planting my right knee onto the gangway and taking both of Lionel's ankles with a sidelong slash of my cane as I pivoted towards the right.

"Typical Mage," I noted as Lionel staggered away, propping himself up on the opposite railing. "Always taking half-measures when it comes to close combat."

And as Mages were wont to do, Lionel yelled and slammed a surge of black-red energy into me; a seething mass of burning legs crawling over, and diving deep beneath my skin, burrowing and scraping my bones as the conjured centipedes chewed through my flesh.

I replied by grounding Lionel's power through my bones and into the gangway.

"You should be prostrated on the floor in pain!" Lionel screamed. "WHY ARE YOU GETTING CLOSER?"

The pain and the total application of my will against the Mage's desperate onslaught clawed its way out of my throat through a tooth-cracking grimace.

I then stepped hard with my left foot. Moving on a diagonal approach while simultaneously turning my foot outwards. My center-line followed the turn of the foot, twisting violently and drawing Lionel's energy into a sudden spiral. Pulled close by the vortex's drag, Lionel was yanked unceremoniously into range just as I took advantage of the corkscrew to wind up and draw the blade from my cane, and cut.

The edge caught against Lionel's palm, repelled by a skin of red-black energy layered over the open hand. It stopped my sword, but it did not stop me grabbing Lionel's robes around the sword's sheath and dragging him into the Covenant's Web.

No technique. No skill. Just pure guts and insanity as the primal otherness of the Covenant tore through the both of us while we fell into an empty, hungry void. Threaded through with immense cables of raw energy searing great tongues of power into us throughout the fall.

The longest I've ever been in the Web was five minutes. The pair of us were spat back out in three. Lionel's screaming stopped at the ten-second mark.

As my boots rang atop the metal gangway, I flexed my knees to hold my balance and lashed out at Lionel as he staggered back, smoke sizzling off his skin and gibbering mad.

My blade then bisected the Mage's waist lengthwise, before cleaving his head off as Lionel fell to his knees and doubled over.

"Should have sent your second-best assassin," I observed, sheathing the blade as the gangway rattled beneath Lionel's dead weight.

That was when a metal paw reached up, crumpled the metal walkway with stubby iron digits, and tore the whole thing down.

* * *

Somehow, I'm alive. I thought as I sat up and nearly brained myself against a stray girder.

I then had to jerk aside as a combat boot sliced past my head.

Slithering, and wriggling, around piles of debris and steel beams. I evaded the kicks and the stomps from the black-clad soldier as he advanced and tried to draw a bead on me.

And then the barrel of an automatic rifle appeared before my eyes, just as the soldier said with evident self-satisfaction.

"Target acquired."

My vision then washed over in a searing pink shade. And when my eyes cleared, the soldier was nowhere to be seen.

"And?" I muttered.

A sudden burst of gunfire dragged my attention back to my surroundings, and my head back down between the rubble of what was once part of the warehouse's roof. The Paladin was gone, apparently the cause of the roof's collapse. And all around the debris, heavily armed mercenary troops in black body armor were disengaging from the White Fang mob and methodically pulling out through the new hole in the warehouse. One squad after another retreated while laying down covering fire for their comrades.

To the side, Neo ducked a pommel jab before corkscrewing over Angela's claymore as if skipped across the ground. Landing, Neo then jumped in with a sudden sidekick which bounced off Argyle's bowling ball of a bicep and sent the waif into a series of backflips onto a stray crate. One of many littered around her, and the colossal swordsman.

There followed a burst of aquamarine light, and all that was left of Argyle as he teleported away were a shower of blue flower petals. Shards of energy which were soon carried away, before dissipating into nothingness.

"Neo!" I called once I was sure Argyle was gone, "Are you ok?!"

"Wilson! Roman took the Paladin and went after the intruders; I need to back him up and …"

"Wait. What the hell is that accent?! That's adorable!"

I chuckled as Neo started beating me with her parasol.

"Now is not the time you fool! Roman is alone and …"

"You need to be by his side. I understand." I finished as I grabbed Neo's hands and pushed a silver of the Covenant's power into the girl. "Go. I'll take care of things here."

Energized, Neo leaped up and hugged me before disappearing into a million glass shards.

I then turned back to the wreckage and shouted, "LIEUTENANT!"

"What! Who's there? Will? What's happening, did we win? Why do you smell fried?"

"We're alive, for whatever that is worth," I said as I walked over to where the White Fang Lieutenant had dug himself out of the mess and was busy tugging at his half-buried chain sword. "What's the situation?"

"Khan knows." The Lieutenant replied, "I got buried while getting stuck in with a bunch of those Special Forces types and just managed to dig myself out before you showed up."

"Well, you're going to have to find out." I ordered as I steered the giant goon towards the mess, "we need to evacuate the White Fang recruits and the injured before the Authorities arrive; you need to take charge and get vehicles, clear up any trace of your presence, and get a triage going for the injured. Any questions?"

"What's a 'triage'?"

Leaving the Lieutenant to find out what a 'Triage' was, my attention turned towards the black-trimmed red gash that was Lionel's headless corpse, lying splayed out across a flat section of the warehouse's roof. Carefully rooting through the slightly smoking robes and finally extracting a silver-plated medallion from the mess; a blood-caked disc stamped with the image of a smiling cartoon dog, traced through the rust-brown layer of gore.

On the back were the words; 'Dog Show – XX76.'


	25. B-Roll (5) Tips for survival

Tips for surviving in Beacon Academy;

Hate Faunus all you want; just remember that they are half-animal, and their stats scale accordingly.

* * *

Tease Velvet Scarlatina all you want; just remember that her teammates get stat bonuses as they become enraged. Collectively, that puts their power level somewhere you can never hope to reach in however many seconds you have left to live.

* * *

Make an effort to Keep your physical endurance up. It will help you not die when you take a ride on the wrong means of transport in the school, for example; the catapults at the edge of the cliff, a Grimm, Nora Valkyrie.

* * *

Don't ride Pyrrha Nikos either; you need to be tall, and blonde with blue eyes to get on that attraction.

* * *

Eat cookies on Academy grounds at your own risk; if Ruby doesn't find them, her sister will get you.

* * *

A transforming weapon is dumb; a transforming weapon that gives you no tactical advantage is dumber.

* * *

Play any prank you want, just do not mess with the coffee; coffee is the only thing keeping some people alive.

* * *

It's perfectly alright to sleep during Professor Port's lectures, but never be bored; the professor is only permitted to give lectures and he needs no incentive to break that rule. Again.

* * *

There is an honest-to-God pancake syndicate being run in Beacon Academy. Basically, the only person you could get pancakes from is Lie Ren. You place an order with him, and in the morning you go down to collect your ration in exchange for a donation. This is necessary as Nora Valkyrie pays a visit to anyone who has pancakes in his, or her possession. Furthermore, no one can prove what exactly happened to the last person Nora visited.


	26. Chapter 22

Dog Show; one of the more infamously prestigious Private Military Companies deployed all around Remnant today. And the only one of its class to operate out of Mistral, which currently maintains a hard-line stance against Mercenaries and their ilk.

All quite straightforward, hence the question becomes;

"What's the deal with the cartoon dog?"

Lee Ann Lei snorted over a mouthful of vanilla ice cream.

"Warlords have families, so a PMC with a 'child-friendly' image is in very high demand."

"Huh. You don't expect such concern for children amongst Mercenaries." I observed quietly.

"Neither do you expect a PMC like Dog Show to be operating in Vale. At least, not without a contract worth fulfilling."

I waited for Lei to continue and instead found her looking expectantly at me.

"What? What would I know about hiring Mercenaries? I have enough trouble hiring a suit."

"Why would you need a suit?" Lei replied, before shaking the thought away and continuing, "In any case, you're the one who's hobnobbing with a criminal mastermind after all."

"He doesn't know any more than I do. Cinder, on the other hand …"

"Go on, go on; what does Cinder know?"

"Who." I clarified, "a name; Dr. Watts."

"Ah, shit! Of course, it would be him."

I glanced at Lei stabbing a spoon into her ice cream before she continued.

"The man with a doctorate in crime, '12 chess games won in 12 moves.' He gave his name to the theory governing all Underworld dealings, and recently voted 'man with best Moustache five years in a row.' So Dr. Watts was the one who hired Dog Show?"

"That's what Cinder thinks, at least," I said, frowning at the scuff marks on my new boots. "She's arranging a meeting with the guy; until then, the rest of us is to take a couple of days off until Cinder sort's things out."

Lei turned back to her dessert, stirring it around and again as her eyes re-focused and she set the spurs on her boots ringing as she stood.

"I do believe that an idea is coming on, an idea which I'm going to put across with the General; meanwhile keep your eye on Cinder, keep up with your schoolwork, and enjoy your vacation!"

Tossing her half-eaten sundae to a passing child, Lei strode briskly out of the park the pair of us had been having lunch. Before disappearing in a sudden leap as the lunch rush fell over where she stood moments ago.

Leaping away, huh.

"Mommy! Why did that pink-eyed fat man jump on the spot like that?"

"He's on a diet! Don't stare!"

* * *

"Wilson ~!"

I looked up from the worktable and swept the reflective mask over my head, reminding myself that I was going to need a haircut soon. Might as well, what with the term break and the holiday resulting from Cinder's generosity.

"Emerald. What can I do for you?"

"I need your help with something, and I'll make it very worth your while if you catch my drift ~."

I tracked the sway of her hips, snug in white pants contrasting the silky cocoa of Emerald's skin while her bared, tight belly swayed with each step closer.

"Really?" I replied with an audible gulp. "Tempting, but I should warn you, I have some questionable tastes."

Emerald's grin was sultry, and as eloquent a reply as any attractive lady needed to give to a man; a promise, and a challenge, rolled into a pixie's pout as lust-heavy eyes bored into mine.

"I'm sure I can … handle anything you throw at me. Although I'm not sure if you could say the same."

"Well, let's get comfortable and find out."

I then led the giggling huntress out of the workshop and towards a classroom two doors down the corridor.

"Kinky, this keeps getting better and better."

"Dear girl, you have not seen anything yet."

And as I pushed the classroom door open, I whipped around and hit Emerald just beneath her breasts, angling the strike up and under her ribs.

I then stepped past the winded huntress and scooped up her left arm into the crook of my right elbow, before whipping back and throwing her into the classroom shouting.

"Professor Port! I got you a volunteer for your community assignment today!"

"EXCELLENT! COME THEN! THE ACADEMY'S STABLES WON'T CLEAN THEMSELVES!"

* * *

To be fair, I had fully intended to help Emerald, regardless of her ' favors.'

There were a couple of slight problems; firstly, I was busy trying to cram energy from the Web of the Covenant into what remained of my equipment. An experiment which Emerald interrupted, to my everlasting annoyance.

Secondly, I remembered the green energy, back when Jaune told me about him seeing things that haven't been there in the first place. I don't trust the proposals of women in any case, so if Emerald was offering something, more time to conduct my experiment was much more appealing.

So it was with two parts cheerfulness, and one part disbelief, that I packed an overnight bag for the weekend and made my way down to Vale's port terminals. Wondering.

"Where, by the Covenant's threads, did Cinder get tickets for a cruise?"

"First prize at that Raffle, for the White Fang's catering lady's son, and his birthday."

"Oh, heck!" I snapped at Emerald as she stepped off the access ramp onto the concrete beside me. "Not that cruise to fucking Menagerie!"

"What have you got against Menagerie?"

"What's there even to do on that horrid zoo of an island?" I groaned back at Emerald. "Dry sand, and half-withered palm trees with the most miserable coconuts on any side of the Vale coast!"

"Are you sure you've not mixed it all up with YOUR 'miserable coconuts?'" Emerald chuckled, "don't you know that Menagerie is one of the top ten tourist attractions recommended by every travel agency in this city? Great beaches, magnificent reefs, welcoming locals …"

"Welcoming FAUNUS locals. Faunus locals who have no love for humans like you, or me. Who would probably have no issue with putting a knife in both our ribs with one hand, while patting us on the back in a gesture of friendship, with the other."

"Now you're just overreacting …"

"Hello!" I began, in what others would see as a slightly, very offensive accent. "Would you be interested in purchasing Khajit's fish? Very fresh, you will - LOL fuck you Human Oppressor! Stabby, stabby, stab, stab!"

"What the hell?!"

"In any case," I finally said as both our fits of laughter subsided into giggling, "Where's Cinder? And Mercury, for that matter."

"Probably trying to get past the security scanners. Which gives us just about enough time to talk about your part in our little plan."

"I know my part; I'm supposed to be your wingman for the entire trip, and set you and Cinder up with opportunities to be alone with each other whenever possible."

"No!" Emerald said, punctuating her point with a slap over the back of my head, "what you have to do is make sure that you distract Mercury whenever I find an opportunity to spend time with Cinder!"

"That too." I conceded, nodding. "Sounds like a very complicated method to bond all around."

"I'm not just 'bonding.' I'm trying to bring my relationship with Cinder to the next step."

"Well, with only Mercury around, that might happen."

"Definitely," Emerald replied with a whole-hearted agreement. "Mercury has always been horrifically dense, and a frustrating thorn in my side. Just imagine if more people joined us."

A sudden motion of pink and chocolate flickered in my right-most corner, and I collided with Neo's attempt at hugging me mid-turn.

Stung, but unwinded, I looked up and watched as Roman Torchwick, Vales most wanted, came striding down the ramp with bag-laden arms. He still had his hat, and the only concession to a disguise was a pair of khaki shorts, a lei of orchids around his neck, and a lurid Hawaiian shirt violently shimmering with every step he took, singing.

"Well then? Let's get this vacation started people!"


	27. Chapter 23

Despite the comprehensive security measures implemented throughout the building, Lee Ann Lei was only lightly jolted awake when the thick doors to General Ironwood's office cracked open, and the General stepped out, dictating orders before stopping mid-sentence and stepping aside when he noticed Lei.

"Forgive me, gentlemen; my 2:30 pm is here at 1 pm. Leave your reports with Jennifer, and I shall look them over later today."

Laughing politely at the General's joke, the men in suits obligingly filed past and made their way towards the elevators at the end of the corridor. And as the elevator began its ponderous descent, Lei pushed off the couch she had been reclining against, before executing a bow with an elegance that her appearance belied.

"My General."

"Lei. We'll talk in the lab."

The walk was short, took the pair through claustrophobic corridors and down steeply spiraling staircases. The lab itself was a three-story complex; massive but crowded with any manner of room, booth, and mad science project over which men, and women, in white lab coats scurried.

"Well?" Ironwood began, " what news from Pink?"

"Two names:" Lei replied, tugging at the sleeves of her duster, "Dog Show, and Dr. Watts."

"Not entirely unexpected," General Ironwood snorted softly, "but I did not believe he had the kind of money to interest Dog Show."

"You were aware of the Doctor being present in Vale?" Lei asked with some degree of surprise.

"I was," General Ironwood replied before leading the spy into a room. A laboratory occupied by a lone scientist operating mechanical arms around a pale green mass through a large, transparent box. "After all, he was the one who made possible the weapon that could kill Wilson Pink."

Lei nodded in understanding, her cowboy hat bobbing for a moment before nearly falling off the greasy, blonde mess that was her hair as she whipped around to face the General, saying.

"Kill Pink? Why? Isn't he an agent of yours?!"

General Ironwood coldly chuckled as he left Lei's side and approached the box.

"Wilson Pink is an agent, but he is not 'mine.' His loyalty is to his own beliefs, his code of conduct. And he would cheerfully destroy us all if he decides that his code supersedes the demands of this assignment. You should know, Lei; you've seen him in action before, and are aware of what he is capable of."

Thoughtfully fingering the brim of her hat, Lei considered what she had seen of Wilson over his most recent missions for the General; of the beams of hungry pink fire, lances of pure destruction from Wilson's eyes. Of how he outfought the most advanced combat android to date. And his duel with the man dressed in red and black.

"Wilson's semblance is like nothing I have ever seen before." Lei finally admitted while stepping up beside the General.

"It is not a semblance. It is, in Wilson's words, 'a matter of faith.'"

Lei sputtered.

"Faith? Like in the flying spaghetti monster?"

The scientist flinched, and nearly fumbled the mechanical arms he was operating, at the General's sudden outburst of laughter.

"More like the horror stories of your youth, Lei; tales of the walking dead, of men who feel no pain. And the stories of the old Gods, their careless power, and the madness of those who fall afoul of these mockeries of reason and logic."

"Wilson believes in fairytales then? So what?"

General Ironwood's reply was another laugh which filled the domed ceiling of the lab and nearly caused the first workplace accident since Thursday, two days ago.

"You are mistaken, Wilson believes he IS the fairytale, and I honestly can't say it isn't justified."

Sighing, Lei ran another finger across the brim of her hat.

"Whatever you say, General. If there is nothing else, I'll be leaving now."

Lei was halfway into the elevator ride topside before she realized she had forgotten about her proposal to the General.

Well, she had something else to worry over. After all, if General Ironwood was willing to deal with Dr. Watts of all people, and jump through all these scientific hoops to kill Wilson Pink, what will he invest in killing her when he comes up with a suitable excuse?

* * *

A slight twinge of jealousy sprinted up Cinder's back as she arrived at the breakfast line, and saw Neo, fitted snugly within a pale tank-top and two-toned hair tied away from her face, cheerfully shoveling food onto a bemused Wilson Pink's plate. The taller, wider hunter was just as informally attired; embracing the holiday mood with an appropriately gay Hawaiian shirt.

For some reason, Cinder found it all highly inappropriate, and that to her was unbearably irritating.

"Good morning Wilson, I see you're enjoying breakfast."

Cinder tried but was unable to disguise her annoyance at the scene before her entirely. Which was why Wilson replied with the tone of snide indifference that never failed in tweaking Cinder's nose to no discernable end.

"Good morning Cinder, I see you're dressing to a theme as always."

"Why, whatever do you mean?" Cinder asked as she pulled out a chair at the broad, round table that everyone had claimed for their own during dinner when they boarded the cruise last night.

Wilson must have overeaten because the fat idiot did not catch the false sweetness in her query as he usually would.

"I get that you have this 'flame and heat' motif going for you, but do you need to keep it going even on vacation? The red-and-gold swimsuit is just tacky."

"Nonsense." Cinder declared with an air of finality as she arranged her sarong around her legs. "Now make yourself useful and tell me where everyone else is."

"Roman and Mercury are getting their hands in at the casino, warming up. Neo and I are obviously in the state of hunger and speaking of Emerald. She's right behind you."

"Cinder! I got breakfast! Are we still on for the spa later?"

Wearing a light-green one piece beneath a loose vest, Emerald Sustrai slipped first a pair of full plates onto the table, before sliding into the seat directly beside Cinder herself. At times like these, Cinder couldn't help but see Emerald as she would her little sister; clingy, suffocating, yet someone whose advice, if not her capabilities, she could rely on, which was why Cinder asked as Emerald took a sip from her cup.

"Emmy, darling; does this swimsuit look tacky?"

"OK! Wow! Yeah, sorry. Tea went down wrong. Well, I would have to say … uh no! Your costume looks very fiery. Very complimentary with the weather we have today, you know? I think? Maybe?"

"Very well, Ms. Sustrai," Cinder said while slamming her palms onto the tabletop and standing. "We're going shopping for a new swimsuit. Are you coming along Pink?"

There went another flash of quiet jealousy as Wilson struggled to reply. If Neo wanted to feed something, she should have gotten a dog.

"Ah, sorry boss, I have plans with Neo today; She's going to teach me Sign language."

Without bothering to reply, Cinder turned and stalked out of the dining room.

By the time Emerald caught up to Cinder, she had found a sun chair by the cruise ship's deck pool and was sulking furiously at the horizon as the vessel's bow sliced through a light breeze which danced across the deck, plucking at Cinder's hair in its wake.

"Hey, Cinder, what's wrong?"

"Wilson Pink is an infuriating man."

Emerald snorted before dragging a nearby sunchair alongside the taller woman's chair.

"And you only figured that out now?"

"Neopolitan is one of a kind as well. That girl should learn to keep her hands to herself."

'Come on, Cinder. Are you seriously jealous of a two-tone, two-inch dwarf? And Wilson, of all people?"

"It is the principle of the thing!" Cinder exclaimed as she sat back up, "If people were to know that my pawns don't respect me, I'd be a laughing stock for every aspiring villainess in Vale! Sharing is a weakness if you have no say in the matter."

"But there's the problem, isn't it?" Emerald observed as she stretched out against her chair. "Wilson is a minion, but he isn't ours. I mean, yours. Ignoring the fact that you seconded him off to Torchwick, Wilson shows you neither respect nor manners. He is someone with his mind, pursuing his own goals, and isn't someone we can wholly trust as a result."

Humming thoughtfully, leaned back and returned her gaze towards the perfect canvas of clear blue contrasting the dark emerald of the sea. And then Cinder said.

"It seems there is only one course of action moving forward; tomorrow, when we reach Menagerie, Wilson and I are going to have a little bonding session."

"Cinder, that is a great idea." Emerald began, before saying.

"Wait. Hang on, what?"


	28. Chapter 24

To all readers;

After some work, I have begun a rewrite of Scions of Magic - Getting even and it can be found in the link below.

s/12822861/1/RWBY-AU-Inquisitions-Officer

The characters are the same, except the story and plot has undergone some changes that required a reboot of sorts.

Thank you for following so far.

chbedok1


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